^^'m:- 


\ 


T  H  E/" 


POEMS 

O     S     S     I     A 


THE 


SON    OF    FINGAL. 


TRANSLATED 


By    JAMES    M  A  C  P  H  E  R  S  O  N,    Efq 
A    NEW    EDITION, 

CAREFULLY  CORRECTED,  AND  GREATLY  IMPROVED. 


We  may  boldly  affign  Oflian  a  place  among  thofe,  whofe  works  aie  to  lafl  for  ages, 

Blair. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
Printed  by  THOMAS   LANG,  N^  21,  Church-Alley, 

M  DCC  XC. 


-t 


PREFACE. 


WITHOUT  increafing  his  genius,  the  Au- 
thor may  have  improved  his  language, 
in  the  eleven  years,  that  the  follc^ving  poems 
have  been  in  the  hands  of  the  pubhc.  Errors 
in  diftion  might  have  been  committed  at  twenty - 
four,  which  the  experience  of  a  riper  age  may 
remove  ;  and  fome  exuberances  m  imagery  m.ay 
be  reftrained,  with  advantage,  by  a  degree  of 
judgment  acquired  in  the  progrefs  of  time.  Im- 
preifed  with  this  opmion,  he  ran  over  the  whole 
with  attention  and  accuracy  ;  and,  he  hopes,  he 
has  brought  the  work  to  a  flate  of  corre6tnefs, 
which  will  preclude  all  future  improvements. 

The  eagernefs,  with  which  thefe  Poems  have 
been  received  abroad,  are  a  recompcnce  for  the 
coldnefs  with  which  a  few  have  affecled  to  treat 
them  at  home.  All  the  polite  nations  of  Europe 
have  transferred  them  into  their  refpeclive  lan- 
guages ;  and  they  fpeak  of  him,  who  brought 
them  to  light,  in  terms  that  might  flatter  the  va- 
nity of  one  fond  of  fame,  in  a  convenient  in- 
difference for  a  literary  reputation,  the  Author 
hears  praife  without  being  elevated,  and  ribald- 
ry, without  being  deprefled.  He  has  frequently 
feen  the  firfi  bellowed  too  precipitately  ;  and 
the  latter  is  fo  faithlefs  to  its  purpofe,  that  it  is 
often  the  only  index  to  merit  in  the  prefent  age. 

Though 


11 


PREFACE. 


Though  the  tafle,  which  defines  genius  by 
the  points  of  the  compafs,  is  a  fubjeci  fit  for 
mirth  in  itfelf,  it  is  often  a  ferious  matter  in  the 
fale  of  a  work.  When  rivers  define  the  hmits 
of  abilities,  as  well  as  the  boundaries  of  coun- 
tries, a  Writer  may  meafure  his  fuccefs,  by  the 
latitude  under  which  he  was  born.  It  was  to 
avoid  a  part  of  this  inconvenience,  that  the  Au- 
thor is  faid,  by  fome,  who  fpeak  without  any 
authority,  to  have  afcribed  his  own  productions 
to  another  name.  If  this  was  the  cafe,  he  was 
but  young  in  the  art  of  deception.  When  he 
placed  the  poet  in  antiquity,  the  Tranflator 
mould  have  been  born  fouth  of  the  Tweed. 

These  obfervations  rearard  onlv  the  frivolous 
m  matters  of  literature;  thele,  however,  form 
a  majority  in  every  age  and  nation.  In  this 
country,  men  of  genuine  taile  abound  ;  but 
their  fhill  voice  is  drowned  in  the  clamours  of  a 
multitude,  who  judge  by  fafli ion  of  poetry,  as 
of  drefs.  The  truth  is,  to  judge  aright  requires 
almolt  as  much  s^enius  as  to  write  well  ;  and 
good  critics  are  as  rare  as  great  poets.  Though 
two  hundred  thoufand  Romans  ftood  up,  when 
Virgil  came  into  the  theatre,  Varius  only  could 
correcl  the  ^ncid.  He  that  obtains  fame,  muft 
receive  it  throuirh  mere  falhion  :  and  o;ratifv  his 
vanity  with  the  applaufe  of  men,  of  whole  judg- 
ment he  cannot  approve. 

The  following  Poems,  it  muilbe  confefTed, 
are  more  calculated  to  pleafe  peribns  of  exqui- 
fite  feelings  of  heart,  than  thole  who  receive  all 
[heir  imprefFions  by  the  car.     The  novelty  of 

cadencel 


PREFACE. 


Ill 


cadence,  in  what,  is  called  a  profe  verfion,  tho' 
not  deltkute  of  harmony,  will  not,  to  common 
readers,  lupply  the  abfence  of  the  frequent  re- 
turns of  rhime.  Thn  -.vas  the  opinion  of  the 
Writer  himfelf,  though  he  yielded  to  the  judg- 
ment of  others,  in  a  mode,  which  prefented 
freedom  and  dignity  of  expreflion,  in  (lead  of 
fetters,  which  cramp  the  thought,  whilfl  the 
harmony  of  language  is  preferved.  His  inten- 
tion was  to  publifh  in  verfe.  The  making  of 
poetry,  like  any  other  handicraft,  may  be  learn- 
ed by  induilry  ;  and  he  had  ferved  his  appren- 
tice fhip,  though  in  fecret,  to  the  mufes. 

It  is,  however,  doubtful,  whether  the  harmo- 
ny which  thefe  poems  might  derive  from  rhime, 
even  in  much  better  hands  than  thoie  of  the 
trandator,  could  atone  for  the  fimplicity  and 
energy,  which  they  would  lofe.  The  determi- 
nation of  this  point  fhall  be  left  to  the  readers 
of  this  preface.  The  following  is  the  beginning 
of  a  poem,  tranilated  from  the  Norfe  to  the 
Gaelic  language  ;  and,  from  the  latter,  trans- 
ferred into  Englifli.  The  verfe  took  little  more 
time  to  the  writer  than  the  profe  ;  and  even  he 
himfelf  is  doubtful,  (if  he  has  fucceeded  in  ei- 
ther) which  of  them  is  the  moll  literal  verfion. 


FRAGMENT  of  a  NORTHERN  TALE, 

Where  Harold,  with  golden  hair,  fpread 
o'er  Lochlin'^  his  high  commands  :  where,  with 
juilice,  he  ruled  the  tribes,  who  funk,  fubdued, 

beneath 

*  The  Gaelic  name  of  ScanJinavia,  cr  Scnr/Jiiihi. 


iv  PREFACE. 

beneath  his  fword  ;  abrupt  rifes  Gormalf  in 
fnow !  The  tempefls  roll  dark  on  his  fides,  but 
calm,  above,  his  vail  forehead  appears.  White- 
ilTuing  from  the  fkirt  of  his  florms,  the  troubled 
torrents  pour  down  his  fides.  Joining,  as  they 
roar  along,  they  bear  the  Torno,  in  foam,  to 
the  main. 

Grey  on  the  bank  and  far  from  men,  half- 
covered  by  ancient  pines,  from  the  wind,  a  lone- 
Iv  pile  exalts  its  head,  long-fhaken  by  the  florms 
of  the  north.  To  this  fled  Sigurd,  fierce  in 
fight,  from  Harold  the  leader  of  armies,  when 
fate  had  brightened  his  fpear  with  renown ; 
when  he  conquered  in  that  rude  field,  where 
Lulan's  warriors  fell  in  blood,  or  rofe,  in  terror, 
on  the  waves  of  the  main.  Darkly  fat  the  grey- 
haired  chief;  yet  Ibrrow  dwelt  not  in  his  foul. 
But  when  the  warrior  thought  on  the  paft,  his 
proud  heart  heaved  again  his  fide  :  forth-flew 
his  fword  from  its  place  ;  he  wounded  Harold 
in  all  the  winds. 

One  daughter,  and  only  one,  but  bright  in 
form  and  mild  of  foul,  the  lafl  beam  of  the  fet- 
ting  line,  remained  to  Sigurd  of  all  his  race. 
His  ion,  in  Lulan's  battle  llain,  beheld  not  his 
father's  flight  from  his  foes.  Nor  finifhed  feem- 
ed  the  ancient  line  !  The  fplendid  beauty  of 
bright-eyed  Fithon,  covered  fhiU  the  fallen  king 
with  renown.  Her  arm  was  white  like  Gormal's 
fnow  ;  her  bofom  whiter  than  the  foam  of  the 
main,  when  roll  the  waves  beneath  the  wrath 
of  the  winds.     Like  two  flars  were  her  radiant 

eyes, 

+  The  mountain  of  Sevo. 


PREFACE.  V 

eyes  ;  like  two  ftars  that  rife  on  the  deep,  when 
dark  tumult  embroils  the  night.  Pleafant  are 
their  beams  aloft,  as  flately  they  afcend  the  fl<.ies. 

Nor  Odin  forgot,  in  aught,  the  maid.  Her 
form  fcarce  equalled  her  lofty  mind.  Awe 
moved  around  her  flately  fteps.  Heroes  loved 
— but  fhrunk  away  in  their  fears.  Yet,  midil 
the  pride  of  all  her  charms,  her  heart  was  foft, 
and  her  foul  was  kind.  She  faw  the  mournful 
with  tearful  eyes.  Tranfient  darknefs  arofe  in 
her  bread.  Her  joy  was  in  the  chace.  Each 
morning,  when  doubtful  light  wandered  dimly 
on  Lulan's  waves,  flie  roufed  the  refounding 
woods,  to  Gormal's  head  of  fnow.  Nor  moved 
the  maid  alone,  &c. 


The  fame  vcrfified. 

Where  fai'r-hair'd  Harold,  o'er  Scandinia  reign'd 
And  held,  with  juftice,  what  his  valour  gain'd, 
Sevo,  in  fnow,  his  rugged  fore-head  rears 
And,  o'er  the  warfare  of  his  ftorms,  appears 
Abrupt  and  vaft. — White-wandering  down  his  fide 
A  thoufand  torrents,  gleaming  as  they  glide, 
Unite  below ;  and  pouring  through  the  plain 
Hurry  the  troubled  Torno  to  the  main. 

Grey,  on  the  bank,  remote  from  human  kind, 
By  aged  pines,  half-fhelter'd  from  the  wind, 
A  homely  manfion  rofe,  of  antique  form, 
For  ages  batter'd  by  the  polar  florm. 
To  this  fierce  Sigurd  fled,   from  Norway's  lord, 
When  fortune  fettled  on  the  warrior's  fword. 
In  that  rude  field,  where  Suecia's  chiefs  were  flain^ 
Or  forced  to  wander  o'er  the  Bothnic  main. 
Dark  was  his  life,  yet  undifturb'd  with  woes, 
But  when  the  memory  of  defeat  arofe, 


eyes 


vi  PREFACE. 

His  proud  heart  ftruck  his  fide;  he  grafpt  the  fpear 
And  wounded  Harold  in  the  vacant  air. 

One  daughter  only,  but  of  form  divine, 
The  laft  fair  beam  of  the  departing  line. 
Remained  of  Sigurd's  race.     His  warlike  ion 
Fell  in  the  iliock,    which  overturn'd  the  throne. 
Nor  defoiate  the  houfe  !   Fionia's  charms 
Suftain'd  the  glory,  which  they  loft  in  arms. 
White  was  her  arm,  as  Sevo's  lofty  fnow, 
Her  bofom  fairer,  than  the  waves  below, 
When  heaving  to  the  winds.      Her  radiant 
Like  two  bright  ftars  exulting  as  they  rife. 
O'er  the  dark  tumult  of  a  ftormy  night. 
And  gladd'ning  heav'n,  with  their  majeftic  light. 

In  nought  is  Odin  to  the  maid  unkind  ; 
Ker  form  I'carce  equals  her  exalted  mind, 
Awe  leads  her  facred  fteps  where'er  they  move, 
And  mankind  worlliip,  where  they  dare  not  love. 
But,  mix'd  Avith  foftnefs,  was  the  virgin's  pride, 
Her  heart  and  feelings,  which  her  eyes  deny'd. 
Her  bright  tears  llarted  at  another's  woes. 
While  tranfient  darknefs  on  her  foul  arofe. 

The  chace  fhe  lov'd;  when  morn,  with  doubtful  beam 
Came  dimly  wandermg  o'er  the  Bothnic  ftream, 
On  Sevo's  founding  fides,  fhe  bent  the  bow, 
And  rouz'd  his  forefts  to  his  head  of  fnow. 
Nor  mov'd  the  maid  alone  ;  &c. 


One  of  the  chief  improvements  in  this  edi- 
tion, is  the  care  taken,  in  arranging  the  poems 
in  the  order  of  time  ;  fo  as  to  form  a  kind 
of  regular  hiftory  of  the  age  to  which  they  re- 
late. The  writer  has  now  refigned  them  for 
ever  to  their  fate.  That  they  have  been  well 
received  by  the  public,  appears  from  an  exten- 
hve  fale  ;  that  they  fhall  continue  to  be  well 
received,  he  may  venture  to  prophefy,  without 

the 


PREFACE.  vii 

the  gift  of  that  infpiration,  to  which  poets  lay 
claim.  Through  the  medium  of  verfion  upon 
verfion,  they  retain,  in  foreign  languages,  their 
native  chara6ler  of  limplicity  and  energy.  Ge- 
nuine poetry,  like  gold,  lofes  little,  when  pro- 
perly transfufed  ;  but  when  a  compofition  can- 
not bear  the  teft  of  a  literal  verfion,  it  is  a  coun- 
terfeit, which  ought  not  to  pafs  current.  The 
operation  muft,  however,  be  performed  with 
fkilful  hands.  A  tranflator,  who  cannot  equal 
his  original,  is  incapable  of  expreffing  its  beau- 
ties. 


London,  Aug.  15, 
1773- 


CONTENTS. 


C_/ATH-LODA,  Part  Firft,  .Page  9  Fin  gal,  Book  VI. ..  .Page  197 

Part  Second,.  .17     Lathmon, 207 

Part  Third, 22     Dar-thula, 219 

Com  ALA, 27  Death  ofCuTHULLiN,...233 

Carric-thura, 35     Battle   of  Lora, 243 

Carthon, 49     Temor  A,  Book  I. 253 

OiNA-MORUL, 63  Book  II 27  I 

COLNA-DONA, 69  Book    III. 283 

OiTHONA, 75  Book  IV 295 

Croma, 83  Book  V. 307 

Calthon   andCoLMAL,. 91  Book  VI 317 

The  War   of  Caros, 99  Book   VII 327 

CATHLiNof  Clutha,. 107  Book   VIIT. 339 

SuL-M  ALLA  of  LuMON, .II4  CoNLATH    and     CuTHONA,.35I 

War  of  Inms-thona,,....i23     Berrathon, 357 

The  Songs  ofSELMA, 131  ADissertation  concerning 

Fi  NG  A  L,  Book  I. 141  the^RA   of  Ossi  an,  . .  .  .371 

Book  II 157  ADissertation  concerning 

Book  III 167  the  Poems  of  Ossian,...385 

Book  IV. 177  A  critical  Dissertation'  on 

Book  V 187  the  Poemi  of  Ossian,...4I5 


r  H  -  L 


A 


POEM, 


'f  N    THREE    P  A  R  T  S. 


B 


ARGUMENT. 

FINGAL,  when  very  young,  making  a  voyage  to  the  Orkney  iflands,  was  driver!, 
by  ftrefs  of  weather,  into  a  bay  of  Scandinavia,  near  the  refidence  of  Starno, 
king  of  Lochlin.  Starno  invites  Fingal  to  a  feaft.  Fingal,  doubting  the  faith 
of  the  king,  and  mindful  of  a  former  breach  of  hofpitality,  refufes  to  go.— 
Starno  gathers  together  his  tribes  :  Fingal  refolves  to  defend  himfelf. — Night 
coming  on,  Duth-maruno  propofes  to  Fingal,  to  obferve  the  motions  of  the 
enemy. — The  king  himfelf  undertakes  the  watch.  Advancing  towards  the  ene- 
my, he,  .jccidentally,  comes  to  the  cave  of  Turthor,  where  Starno  had  confiEed 
Conban-carglas,  the  captive  daughter  of  a  neighbouring  chief. — Her  (lory  is 
imperfeft,  a  part  of  the  original  being  loft.— Fingal  comes  to  a  place  of  worlhip, 
where  Starno  and  his  fon,  Swaran,  confulted  the  fpirit  of  Loda,  concerning  the 
jffue  of  the  war.—  The  rencounter  of  Fingal  and  Swaran. — Duan  firft  concludes 
with  a  defcription  of  the  airy  hail  of  Cruth-loda,  fuppol'ed  to  be  the  Odin  oi 
Scandinavia, 


C    A    T    H  -  L    O     D    A. 


DUAN*    FIRST, 

TALE  of  the  times  of  old! 
Why,  thou  wanderer  unfeen!  thou  bender  of  the 
thiitle  of  Lora  ;  v/hy,  thou  breeze  of  the  valley,  had  thou 
left  mine  ear  ?  I  hear  no  diftant  roar  of  dreams  !  no 
found  of  the  harp,  from  the  rock  !  Come,  thou  huntrefs 
of  Lutha,  Malvina,  call  back  his  foul  to  the  bard.  I  look 
forward  to  Lochlin  of  lakes,  to  the  dark,  billowy  bay  of 
U-thorno,  where  Fingai  defcends  from  Ocean,  from  the 
roar  of  winds.  Few  are  the  heroes  of  Morven,  in  a  land 
unknown  i 

Starno  fent  a  dweller  of  Loda,  to  bid  Fingai  to  the 
feaft  ;  but  the  king  remembered  the  pad,  and  all  his  rage 
arofe.  "  Nor  Gormal's  moffy  towers,  nor  Starno,  diall 
Fino-al  behold.  Deaths  wander,  like  fliadows,  over  his 
hery  foul  I  Do  I  forget  that  beam  of  light,  the  white- 
handed  dimghter  -I-  of  kings  ?  Go,  fon  of  Loda  ;  his  v/ords 
iHYQ  wind  to  Fingai  :   wind,  that,  to  and  fro,  drives  the 

thidle, 

*  The  bards  dlftinguifhed  thofe  compofitions,  in  which  the  nairaflon  is  often 
interrupted,  by  odes  and  apoftrophes,  by  the  name  of  Dudn.  Since  the  extinftion 
of  the  order  of  the  bards,  it  has  been  a  general  name  for  all  ancient  compofitions 
in  verfe.  The  abrupt  manner  in  which  the  ftory  of  this  poem  begins,  may  ren- 
der it  obfcure  tofome  readers  ;  it  mav  not  therefore  be  improper,  to  give  here  the 
triiitiona!  preface,  which  is  generally  prefixed  to  it.  Two  years  after  he  took  to 
w;fe  Ros-crana,  the  daughter  of  Cormac,  kine;  of  Ireland,  Fni^al  undertook  an 
expi'dition  into  Orkney,  to  viiit  his  friend  Calhulla,  king  of  Inifiore.  After 
(laying  a  f.-w  days  at  Caric-thura,  the  refulence  of  Cathulia,  ihe  king  fet  fyil,  to 
return  to  Scotland  ;  but,  a  violent  ftorni  avifing,  his  fhips  were  driven  into  a  bay 
of  Scandinavia,  neai  Gormal,  the  feat  of  Starno,  king  of  Lochlin,  his  avowed 
entmy,  Starno,  upon  the  appearance  of  Rrangers  on  his  coaft,  fummoned  toge- 
th-rr  the  neighboring  tribes,  and  advanced,  in  a  hoflile  manner,  towards  the  bay 
of  U-thorno,  where  Fingai  had  taken  flielter.  Upon  difcovering  who  the  ftran- 
gers  were,  and  fearing  the  valour  of  Fingai,  which  he  had,  more  than  once,  ex- 
perienced before,  he  refolved  to  accomplifn  by  treachery  what  he  was  afraid  he 
(hould  fail  in  by  open  force.  He  invited,  thci^ifore,  Fui^al  to  a  feaft,  at  which  he 
int;-nded  to  aiTailinate  him.  The  king  crudently  dechned  to  go,  and  Starno  betook 
hnnlelf  to  arms.     The  fequcl  of  the  (iovy  may  be  learned  from,  the  poem  itfclf. 

+  A:i;andecca,  the  daughter  of  Starno,  v/hom  her  father  killed,  on  account  of 
\\tT  difcovering  to  Fingai,  a  plot  laid  againft  his  life.  Hsr  iioi)'  15  related  ai  krgCj 
in  the  third  book  of  Fingil. 


12  C  A  T  H  -  L  O  D  A  ; 

thiftle,  in  autumn's  dufiiy  vale.  Duth-maruno*,  arm  of 
death  !  Cromma-glas,  of  iron  iliields !  Strutlimor,  dweller 
of  battle's  wing  !  Cormar,  whofe  fliips  bound  on  feas, 
carelefs  as  the  courfe  of  a  meteor,  on  dark-rolling  clouds ! 
Arife,  around  me,  children  of  heroes,  in  a  land  unknown! 
Let  each  look  on  his  fliield,  like  Trenmor,  the  ruler  of 
wars.  "  Come  down,  thus  Trenmor  faid,  thou  dv/eller 
between  the  harps.  Thou  flialt  roll  this  Itream  away,  or 
wafte  with  me  in  earth." 

Around  the  king  they  rife  in  wrath.  No  words  come 
forth  :  they  feize  their  Ipears.  Each  foul  is  rolled  into 
itfelf.  At  length  the  fudden  clang  is  waked,  on  all  their 
echoing  fhields.  Each  takes  his  hill,  by  night ;  at  inter- 
vals, they  darkly  (land.  Unequal  burfls  the  hum  of  fongs, 
between  the  roaring  wind  ! 

Broad  over  them  rofe  the  moon  ! 

In  his  arms,  came  tall  Duth-maruno  ;  he  from  Croma 
of  rocks,  flern  hunter  of  the  boar  !  In  his  dark  boat  he 
rofe  on  waves,  when  Crumthormoj-  awaked  its  v/oods. 
In  the  chace  he  (hone,  among  foes  :  No  fear  was  thine. 
Duth-maruno ! 

"  Son  of  daring  Comhal,  fhall  my  flieps  be  forward 
through  night  ?  From  this  fhield  fhall  I  view  them,  over 
their  gleaming  tribes.''  Starno,  king  of  lakes,  is  before  me, 
and  Swaran,  the  foe  of  ftrangers.  Their  words  are  not  in 
vain,  by  Loda's  flone  of  power.- — Should  Duth-maruno 
not  return,  his  fpoufe  is  lonely,  at  home,  where  meet  two 
roaring  flreams,  on  Crathmo-craulo's  plain.  Around  are 
hills,  with  echoing  woods ;  the  ocean  is  rolling  near.  My 
fon  looks  on  fcreaming  fea-fowl,  a  young  v^anderer  on  the 

field. 

*  Duth-maruno  is  a  name  very  famous  in  tradition.  Many  of  liis  great  aftions 
are  handed  down  ;  but  the  poenis,  which  contained  the  detail  of  them,  are  long 
iincc  lofi.  He  hved,  it  isfiippofed,  in  that  part  of  the  north  of  Scotland,  which  is 
over  againfl  Orkney.  Dutb-maruno,  Ciomma-glas,  Strutlimor,  and  Cormar,  are 
mentioned,  as  attending  Comhal,  in  his  laft  battle  ajrainfl  the  tribe  of  Morni,  in  a 
poem,  which  is  ftillprefervcd.  It  is  not  the  woik  of  OOian  ;  tlie  phtafeoi&gy  be- 
irays  it  to  be  a  modern  corapolition.  It  is  ibmething;  like  thofe  trivia!  compofuions, 
which  the  I rifh  bards  forged,  under  the  name  of  Olllan,  in  the  fifteenth  and  fix- 
teenth  centuries.  Dulh-m.aruno  rio;Bifies,  black  and  [lea dy.  Cromma-glas,  lending 
and f war  thy  ;  Strmhmor,  roarinf^Jlream  ;  Corimr,  expert  at Jee. 

t  Crumthormoth,  one  of  the  Orkney  or  Shetland  iflands.  The  name  is  not  of 
Gahc  original.  It  v;as  fubjeft  to  its  own  petty  king,  who  is  mentioned  in  one  of 
OITian's  poems. 


A     P  O  E  M.  13 

field.  Give  the  head  of  a  boar  to  Can-dona  '^j  tell  him 
of  his  father's  joy,  when  the  briftly  flrength  of  I-thorno 
rolled  on  his  lifted  fpear.  Tell  liirn  of  my  deeds  in  war ! 
Tell  where  his  father  fell !" 

"  Not  forgetful  of  my  fathers,"  faid  Fingal,  "  I  have 
bounded  over  the  feas.  Theirs  were  the  times  of  dan2:er, 
in  the  days  of  old.  Nor  fettles  darknefs  on  me,  before 
foes,  though  youthful  in  my  locks.  Chief  of  Crathmo- 
craulo,  the  field  of  night  is  mine." 

FiNGAL  rufned,  in  all  his  arms,  wide-bounding  over 
Turthor's  flream,  that  fent  its  fuUen  roar,  by  night,  ttiro* 
Gormal's  mifly  vale.  A  moon-beam  glittered  on  a  rock  ; 
in  the  midft,  ilood  a  ffately  form  ;  a  form  with  floating 
locks,  like  Lochlin's  white-bofom'd  maids.  Unequal  are 
her  fleps,  and  fhort.  She  throws  a  broken  fong  on  wind. 
At  times  flie  toifes  her  white  arms :  for  grief  is  dwelling 
m  her  foul. 

"  TORCUL- 

*  Cean-daona,  head  of  the  people,  the  foncf  Dmh-maiano.  He  became  after- 
wards famous,  in  the  expeditions  of  Oflian,  after  the  death  of  Fingal.  The  tradi- 
tional tales  concerning  him  are  very  numerous,  and,  from  the  epithet,  in  them,  be- 
flowed  on  him  [Candcnn  of  hoars)  it  would  appear,  t'lat  he  applied  himfelf  to  that 
kind  of  hunting,  which  hisfaiher,  in  this  paragraph,  is  fo  anxious  to  recommend  to 
him.  As  I  have  mcntionid  the  traditional  tales  of  the  Highlands,  it  may  not  be 
improper  here,  to  give  fome  account  of  them.  After  the  expulfion  of  the  bait's, 
from  the  houfes  of  the  clucfs,  they,  being  an  indolrnt  race  of  men,  owed  all  thei- 
fublillencc  to  the  generoCty  of  the  vulgar,  whom  they  diverted  with  repeating  the 
com.pofitions  ot  their  predeceffors,  and  running  up  the  genealogies  ot  their  enter- 
tainers to  the  famii)'  of  their  chiefs.  As  thislulijeft  was,  however,  foon  exhauded, 
they  were  obliged  to  have  rcconrfe  to  invention,  and  form  (lories  having  no  foun- 
dation infaft ;  which  were  fwallowed,  with  great  credulity,  by  an  ignorant  multi- 
tude. By  frequent  repealing,  the  fable  grew  upon  their  hands,  and,  as  each  threw 
in  whatever  circumftance  he  thought  conducive  to  raife  the  admiration  of  his  hear- 
ers, the  flory  became,  at  laft,  fo  devoid  of  all  probability,  that  even  the  vulgar 
thcmfelves  did  not  believe  it.  They,  however,  liked  the  tales  fo  well,  that  the 
bards  found  their  advantage  in  turning  profefied  lale-makers.  They  then  launched 
cut  into  the  wildefl  regions  of  ficlion  and  romance,  1  £rmly  believe,  there  are 
more  (lories  of  giants,  enchanted  caftlcs,  dwarfs,  and  palfreys,  in  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland,  than  in  any  country  of  Europe.  Thefc  tales,  it  is  certain,  like  oihev 
romantic  compofu ions,  liave  many  things  in  them  unnatural,  and,  conlequenily, 
difguftful  to  true  tafte  ;  but,  I  know  not  how  it  happens,  they  com.mand  attention 
more  than  any  other  fiftions  I  ever  met  with.  The  extreme  length  of  thefe  pieces 
is  very  furprifiiiff,  fome  of  them  requiring  many  days  to  repeat  them;  but  fuch 
hold  they  take  of  the  memory,  that  few  circumfiances  are  ever  omitted  by  theft 
wi)0  have  received  them  onlv  from  oral  tradition  :  What  is  fliH  more  amazing,  the 
very  language  of  the  bards  is  flil!  preferved.  It  is  curious  to  fee,  that  the  defcrip- 
tiorsof  magnilicence,  introduced  in  (hcfe  tales,  are  even  fupTior  to  all  tlie  pon^p- 
ou.s  oriental  fi^lionsof  the  kind 


14  C  A  T  H  -  L  O  D  A  : 

"  ToRCUi,-TORNO,*  of  aged  locks  ^'*  flie  Hiid,  "  where 
now  are  thy  fteps,  by  Lulan  ?  Thou  haft  failed,  at  thine 
own  dark  ftrearns,  father  of  Conban-  cargla !  But  I  behold 
thee,  chief  of  Lulan,  fporting  by  Loda's  hall,  when  the 
dark-lkirted  night  is  rolled  along  the  Iky. — Thou,  feme- 
times,  hidcft  the  moon,  with  thy  fliield.  I  have  feen  her 
dim,  in  heaven.  Thou  kindleft  thy  hair  into  meteors,  and 
fcileft  along  the  night.  Why  am  I  forgot  in  my  cave,  king 
of  fhaggy  boars  ?  Look,  from  the  hall  of  Loda,  on  thy 
lonely  daughter." 

*'  Who  art  thou,"  faid  Fingal,   ■'  voice  of  night  ?" 

She,  trembling,  turned  away. 

"  Who  art  thou,  in  thy  darknefs  ?" 

She  flirunk  into  the  cave. 

The  king  ioofed  the  thong  from  her  hands.  He  afked 
about  her  fathers. 

"  ToRCUL-TORNO,"  file  faid,  "  once  dwelt  at  Lulan's 
foamy  flream :  he  dwelt — but,  now,  in  Loda's  hall,  he 
ihakes  the  founding  fliell.  He  met  Starno  of  Lochlin,  in 
•V7ar ;  long  fought  the  dark-eyed  kings.  My  father  fell,  in 
his  blood,  blue-fhielded  Torcul-torno  !  By  a  rock,  at  Lu- 
lan's llream,  I  had  pierced  the  bounding  roe.  My  white 
tiand  gathered  my  hair,  from  off"  the  rufliing  winds.  I 
.ficard  a  noife.  Mine  eyes  were  up.  My  fott  breaft  rofe  on 
liigh.  My  ftep  was  forward,  at  Lulan  to  meet  thee,  Tor- 
cul-torno !    It  was  Starno,  dreadful  king !    His  red  eyes 

rolled 

*  Torcul-torno,  according  to  tradition,  was  king  of  Crathlun,  a  diflrift  in  Swe- 
&tt.  The  rivsr  Lulan  ran  near  the  refidence  of  Torcul-torno.  Thereis  a  river 
30  Sweden,  ftill  called  Lula,  which  is  prob^ably  the  fame  with  Lulan.  The  war 
fcciween  Starno  and  Torcul-torno,  which  terminated  in  the  death  of  the  latter, 
fcad!  Its  rife  at  a  hunting  party,  Starno  being  invited,  in  a  friendly  manner,  by 
Torcul-torno,  both  kings,  with  their  followers,  went  to  the  mountains  of  Stivamore 
to  hunt.  A  boar  ruflicd  from  the  wood  before  the  kings,  and  Torcul-torno  killed 
it.  Starno  thought  this  bel.iaviour  a  br?ach  upon  the  privilege  of  ^ucfts,  who  were 
always  /lerwured,  as  traditio-n  expiefies  it,  zvitk  the  dangler  of  the  chace.  A  quarrel 
arolCj  the  kings  came  to  battle  with  all  their  attendants,  and  the  party  of  Torcul- 
toreo  were  totally  defeated,  and  he  hlmfelf  {lain.  Starno  purfued  his  viftory,  laid 
■w-aftc  the  diftritt  of  Crathlun,  and,  coming  to  the  refidence  of  Torcul-torno,  car- 
T3,-r|  off,  by  force,  Conban-carglas,  the  beautiful  daughter  of  his  enemy.  Her  he 
-anh'icd  in  a  cave,  near  the  palace  of  Gormal,  wheie,  on  accouwt  of  her  cruel 
TTstnicnt,  fhe .became  diflrafted. 

'I  he  paragraph,  juftnow  before  us.  is  the  fong  of  Conban-carglas,  at  the  time 
fhi't  vras  difcovered  by  Fingal.  It  is  in  Lyric  meafure,  and  fet  to  mufic,  which  is 
^•-ski  and  fimple,  and  fo  inimitably  fuited  t©  the  htuation  of  the  unhappy  lady,  thaf. 
fi:w  can  hear  It  without  tears. 


A    P  O  E  M,  15 

tolled  on  me  In  love.  Dark  waved  his  fbaggy  brov.%  above 
his  fathered  fmile.  Where  is  my  father,  laid  I ;  he  that 
was  mighty  in  war  ?  Thou  art  left  alone  among  foes,  O 
daui^hter  of  Torcul-torno  !  He  took  my  hand.  He  raifed 
the  fail.  In  this  cave  he  placed  me  dark.  At  times,  he 
oomes,  a  gathered  mift.  He  lifts,  before  me,  my  father's 
fhield.  But  often  paffes  a  beam  *  of  youth,  far  diftant  from 
my  cave.  The  fon  of  Starno  moves,  in  my  fight.  He 
dwells  lonely  in  my  foul." 

"  Maid  of  Lulan,"  faid  Fingal,  "  white-handed  daugh- 
ter of  grief!  a  cloud,  marked  v/ith  flreaks  of  fire,  is  rolled 
along  thy  foul.  Look  not  to  that  dark-robed  moon ;  look 
not  to  thofe  meteors  of  heaven.  My  gleaming  fteel  is  around 
thee,  the  terror  of  thy  foes  !  It  is  not  the  Iteel  of  the  feeble, 
nor  of  the  dark  in  foul !  The  maids  are  not  Ihut  in  our  f 
caves  of  ftreams.  They  tofs  not  their  white  arms  alone.. 
They  bend,  fair  within  their  locks,  above  the  harps  of 
Selma.  Their  voice  is  not  in  the  dcfart  wild.  We  melt 
along  the  pleafmg  found  1" 


Fingal,  again,  advanced  his  Heps,  wide  through  the 
bofom  of  night,  to  where  the  trees  of  Loda  fhook  amid 
fqually  winds.  Three  ftones,  with  heads  of  mofs,  are 
there;  a  ftream,  with  foaming  courfe:  and  dreadful,  rolled 
around  them,  is  the  dark-red  cloud  of  Loda.  High  from 
its  top  looked  forward  a  ghofl,  half-formed  of  the  lliadowy 
fmoke.  He  poured  his  voice  at  times,  amidft  the  roaring 
llream.  Near,  bending  beneath  a  blafted  tree,  two  heroes 
received  his  words :  Swaran  of  lakes,  and  Starno,  foe  of 
flrangers.  On  their  dun  fnields,  they  darkly  leaned:  their 
fpears  are  forward  through  night.  Shrill  founds  the  blafl 
of  darknefs  in  Starno's  floating  beard. 

Thly  heard  the  tread  of  Fingal.    The  warriors  rofe  in 

arms. 

*  Bv  the  heam  of  youth,  it  afterwards  appears,  that  Conbao-carglas  means  Swaran, 
tie  fon  of  Starno,  with  whom,  during  her  confinement,  fhe  had  tallen  in  love. 

t  From  this  contiaft,  which  Fingal  draws,  betvv'een  his  own  nation,  and  the 
inhabit  ints  of  Scandinavia,  we  may  learn,  that  the  former  were  much  lefs  barbarous 
than  the  latter.  This  diflintlion  is  fo  much  obferved  throughout  the  poems  of  Of- 
fian,  that  there  can  be  no  doubt,  that  he  followed  the  real  manners  of  both  nation'? 
in  his  own  time.  At  the  clofe  of  the  fpeech  of  Fingal,  there  is  a  great  part  of  the 
original  loft. 


i6  CATH-LODA: 

arms.  "  Swaran,  lay  that  wanderer  low,"  faid  Starno,  im 
his  pride.  "  Take  the  iliieid  of  thy  father.  It  is  a  rock 
in  war.'* — Swaran  threw  his  gleaming  fpear.  It  flood  fixed 
in  Loda's  tree.  Then  came  the  foes  forward,  with  fwords. 
They  mixed  their  rattling  fteel.  Through  the  thongs  of 
Swaran's  fliield  rufhed  the  blade  *  of  Luno.  The  fhield 
fell  rolling  on  earth.  Cleft,  the  helmet  f  fell  down.  Fingal 
ftopt  the  lifted  Heel.  Wrathful  flood  Swaran,  unarmed. 
He  rolled  his  filent  eyes ;  he  threw  his  fword  on  earth. 
Then,  flowly  ftaiking  over  the  llream,  he  whiflled  as  he 
went. 

Nor  unfeen  of  his  father  is  Swaran.  Starno  turns  away 
in  v/rath.  His  fhaggy  brows  wave  dark,  above  his  gather- 
ed rage.  He  ftrikes  Loda's  tree,  with  his  fpear.  He  raifes 
the  hum  of  fongs.  They  come  to  the  hofl  of  Lochlin, 
each  in  his  own  dark  path  j  like  two  foam-covered  flreams, 
from  two  rainy  vales  ! 

To  Torthur's  plain  Fingal  returned.  Fair  rofe  the  beam, 
of  the  eafl.  It  fhone  on  the  fpoils  of  Lochlin,  in  the  hand 
of  the  king.  From  her  cave  came  forth,  in  her  beauty, 
the  daughter  of  Torcul-torno.  She  gathered  her  hair  from 
wind.  She  wildly  raifed  her  fong.  The  fong  of  Lulan  of 
flieils,  where  once  her  father  dwelt.  She  faw  Starno's 
bloody  fhield.  Giadnefs  rofe,  a  light,  on  her  face.  She 
faw  the  cleft  helmet  of  Swaran  §.  She  fhrunk,  darkened, 
from  Fingal. — "  Art  thou  fallen,  by  thy  hundred  ftreams, 
O  love  of  the  mournful  maid." 

U-THORNO,  that  rifeft  in  waters  !  on  whofe  fide  are  the 
meteors  of  night !  I  behold  the  dark  moon  defcending, 
behind  thy  refounding  woods.  On  thy  top  dwells  the 
mifcy  Loda  :  the  houfe  of  the  fpirits  of  men !  In  the  end 
of  his  cloudy  hail,  bends  forward  Cruth-loda  of  fwords. 

His 

*  The  fword  of  Fingal,  fo  called  from  its  maker,  Luno  of  Lochlin. 

t  The  hehnet  of  Swaran,  The  behaviour  of  Fingal  is  always  confiilent  with  that 
•enerofity  of  fpint  which  belongs  io  a  hero.  He  takes  no  advantage  of  a  foe  dil- 
armed. 

^  Conban-carglas,  from  feeing  the  helmet  of  Swaran  bloody  in  the  hands  of 
Fingal,  conjeftured  that  that  hero  was  killed.  A  part  of  the  original  is  loft.  It 
appears,  however,  from  the  fequel  of  the  poem,  that  the  daughter  of  Torcul-torno 
did  not  long  furvive  herfurprize,  occafioned  by  the  fuppofed  death  of  her  lover. 
The  defcriptionof  the  airy  hall  of  Loda  (which  is  fuppofed  to  be  the  fame  with 
that  of  Odin,  the  deity  of  Scandinavia)  is  more  pi6lurefque  and  defcriptive,  than 
any  in  the  Edda,  or  •  ther  works  of  the  northern  Scolders. 


A    P  O  E  M.  17 

H*?  form  is  dimly  feen,  amid  his  wavy  mifl.  His  ri  hr- 
hand  is  on  his  fhield.  In  his  left  is  the  half-viewieis  fhell. 
The  roof  of  his  dreadful  hall  is  marked,  with  nightly  fires  ! 
The  race  of  Cruth-loda  advance,  a  ridge  of  formlels 
fhades.  He  reaches  the  founding  lliell,  to  thofe  v/ho  flione 
in  vi^ar.  But,  between  him  and  the  feeble,  his  fhield 
rifes,  a  darkened  orb.  He  is  a  fetting  meteor  to  the  weak 
in  arms.  Bright,  as  a  rainbov/  on  ftr earns,  came  Lulan's 
white-bofomed  maid. 


CATH-LODA. 


D  U  A  N     SECOND, 


ARGUMENT. 


FINGAL  returning,  with  day,  devolves  the  command  on  Duth-maruno,  who 
engages  the  enemy,  aud  drives  them  over  the  ftream  of  Tarthor.  Having  re- 
called his  people,  he  congratulates  Duth-maruno  en  his  fuccffs,  but  difcovers, 
that  that  hero  had  been  mortally  wounded  in  the  action. — Duth-maruno  dies. 
Ullin,  the  bard,  in  honour  of  the  dead,  introduces  the  epifode  of  Colgorm  and 
Strina-dona,  which  concludes  this  dudn. 

WHERE  art  thou,  fon  of  the  king,"  faid  dark- 
haired  Duth-maruno?  "  Where  halt  thou  failed, 
young  beam  of  Selma  ?  He  returns  not,  from  the  bofoni 
of  night !  Morning  is  fpread  on  U-thorno.  In  his  mift  is 
I'he  fun,  on  his  hill.  Warriors,  lift  the  fiiieids,  in  my 
prefence.  He  muft  not  fall,  like  a  fire  from  heaven,  whofe 
place  is  not  marked  on  the  ground.  He  comes,  like  an. 
eagle,  from  the  Ikirt  of  his  fqually  wind !  In  his  hand  are 
the  fpoils  of  foes.    King  of  Selma,  our  fouls  were  fad! 

"  Near  us  are  the  foes,  Duth-maruno.  They  come 
forward,  like  waves  in  miif,  when  their  foamy  tops  are 
feen,  at  times,  above  the  low-failing  vapour.    The  traveller 

C  flirinks 


^8  CATH-LODA: 

flirinks  on  his  journey/ ;  he  knows  not  ^vhither  to  ily.  No 
trembling  travellers  are  we  1  Sons  of  heroes,  call  forth  the 
fteel.  Shall  the  fword  of  Fingal  arife,  or  fliall  a  warrior 
lead  ?" 

*  The  deeds  of  old,  faid  Duth-maruno,  are  like  paths 
to  our  eyes,  O  Fingal,  Broad-fhielded  Trenmor,  is  ftill 
feen,  amidfl  his  own  dim  years.  Nor  feeble  was  the  foul 
of  the  king.  There,  no  dark  deed  wandered  in  fecret. 
From  their  hundred  dreams  came  the  tribes,  to  graify 
Colglancrona.  Their  chiefs  v/ere  before  them.  Each  ilrove 
to  lead  the  war.  Their  fwords  were  often  half-unflieathed. 
Red  rolled  their  eyes  of  rage.  Separate  they  flood,  and 
hummed  their  furly  fongs.  "  Why  fnould  they  yield  to 
each  other  ?  their  fathers  were  equal  in  war.'*  Trenmor 
was  there,  with  his  people,  {lately  in  youthful  locks.  He 
faw  the  advancing  foe.  The  grief  of  his  foul  arofe.  He 
bade  the  chiefs  to  lead,  by  turns:  they  led,  but  they  v/ere 
rolled  away.  From  his  own  moily  hill,  blue-fliielded 
Trenmor  came  down.  He  led  wide-ikirted  battle,  and  the 
ftrangers  failed.  Around  him  the  dark-browed  warriors 
came:  they  flruck  the  ftield  of  joy.  Like  a  pleafant  gale, 
the  words  of  power  ruflied  forth  from  Selma  of  kings.  But 
the  chiefs  led,  by  turns,  in  war,  till  mighty  danger  rofe: 
then  was  the  hour  of  the  king  to  conquer  in  the  held." 

"  Not 

*  In  this  fliort  epifocle  we  .have  a  very  probable  account  given  us,  of  the  origin 
of  monarchy  in  Caledonia.  The  Cad  or  Gauls  who  poikffed  the  countries  to  the 
north  of  the  Firth  of  Edinburgh,  were,  originally,  a  number  of  di'hnti  tribes,  or 
clans,  each  fubjeft  to  its  own  chief,  who  was  free  and  independent  of  any  othci- 
power.  When  the  Romans  invaded  them,  the  common  danger  might,  perhaps, 
have  induced  thofc  rcgdi  to  join  together,  but,  as  they  were  unwilling  to  yield  to 
the  cor.nnand  of  one  of  their  own  number,  their  battles  were  iJl-condu6kd,  and, 
confequenttv,  unfuccefbful.  Trenmor  was  the  firQ  who  repvefented  to  the  chiefs, 
the  bad  confequcnces  of  carrying  on  iheir  wars  in  this  irregular  manner,  and  advifed, 
that  thev  themfelvcs  fliouid  alternately  lead  in  battle.  They  did  fo,  but  they  were 
unfuccefsful.  When  it  came  to  Trenmoi's  turn,  he  totally  defeated  the  enemy, 
by  his  fi'perior  valour  and  conduct,  which  gainea  him  fuch  an  intereft  among  the 
tribes,  that  he,  ana  his  family  after  him,  were  regarded  as  kings;  or,  to  ufe  the 
poet's  expreihon,  the  wards  of  power  rijjhtd  forth  from  Selma  of  kings.  The  regal 
authority,  however,  except  in  time  of  war,  was  but  inconfiderable;  for  ever)'  chief, 
within  his  own  diflrift,  Avas  abfolute  and  independent.  From  the  fcene  of  the  bat- 
tle in  this  epifyde,  (which  was  in  the  valley  of  Crona,  a  lutle  to  the  north  of 
Agiicola's  wall)  1  (hould  fuppofe,  that  the  enemies  of  the  Caledonians  were  the 
Romans,  or  provincial  Britons. 


A     P  O  E  M.  19 

"  Not  unknown,"  faid  Crorama-glas  *  of  fliields,  "  are 
the  deeds  ot  our  fathers.  But  who  fhallnow  lead  the  war, 
before  the  race  of  kings  ?  Mid  fettles  on  thefe  four  dark 
hills  :  within  it  let  each  warrior  flrike  his  diield.  Spirits 
may  defcend  in  darknefs,  and  mark  us  for  the  war." 

They  went,  each  to  his  hill  of  mift.  Bards  marked 
the  founds  of  the  flilelds.  Loudefl-rung  thy  bofs,  Duth- 
.maruno.    Thou  mud  lead  in  war ! 

Like  the  murmur  of  waters,  the  race  of  U-thorno  came 
down.  Starno  led  the  battle,  and  Swaran  of  ftormy  ifles. 
They  looked  forward  from  iron  fliields,  like  Cruth-loda 
fiery-eyed,  when  he  looks  from  behind  the  darkened  moon, 
and  ftrews  his  figns  on  night.  The  foes  met  by  Turthor's 
flream.  They  heaved  like  ridgy  waves.  Their  echoing 
ilrokes  are  mixed.  Shadowy  death  flies  over  the  hofts. 
They  were  clouds  of  hail,  with  fqnally  winds  in  their  fis.irts. 
Their  fhowers  are  roarino;  tofjether.     Below  them  fweils 

o        o 

the  dark-rolling  deep. 

StPvIfe  of  gloomy  U-thorno,  v/hy  fnould  I  mark  thy 
wounds !  Thou  art  with  the  years  that  are  gone !  thou 
faded  on  my  foul ! 

Starno  brought  forward  his  fkirt  of  war,  and  Swaran 
his  own  dark  wing.  Nor  a  harmlefs  fire  is  Duth-raaruno's 
fword.  Lochlin  is  roiled  over  her  dreams.  The  wrathful 
kings  are  lofl  in  thought.  They  roll  their  filent  eyes,  over 
the  flight  of  their  land.    The  horn  of  Fingal  was  heard  ; 

the 

*  la  tradition,  this  Cromma-glas  ma]<es  a  great  figure  in  that  battle  which  Com- 
hz\  loft,  together  with  his  life,  to  the  tribe  of  Morni.  I  have  juft  now,  in  my 
hands,  an  Iiifli  compofitfon,  of  a  very  modern  date,  as  appears  from  the  language, 
in  which  all  the  tradliions,  concerning  that  decifive  engagement,  are  jumbled  to- 
gether. Injuihce  to  the  merit  of  the  poem,  I  fnould  have  here  prefented  to  the 
reader  a  tranfiation  of  it,  did  not  the  bard  mention  fome  circumflances  very  ridi- 
culous, and  others  altogether  indecei  t.  Morna,  the  wife  of  Comhal,  had  a  prin- 
cipal hand  in  all  the  tranfattions  previous  to  the  defeat  and  death  of  her  huftand ; 
ihe,  to  ufe  the  words  of  the  bard,  w/10  was  the  guidin:^  Jlar  of  the  zuomen  of  Erin. 
The  bard,  it  is  hoped,  milreprefented  the  ladies  of  his  country,  for  Morna's  beha- 
viour was,  according  to  him,  io  void  of  all  decency  and  virtue,  that  it  cannot  befup- 
poled,  they  had  chofen  her  for  theii  guiding  far.  The  poem  confifls  of  many  flan- 
zas.  The  language  is  figurative,  and  the  numbers  harmonious;  but  the  piece  is  fo 
full  of  anachronifms,  and  fo  unequal  in  its  compofition,  that  the  author,  mofi  un- 
doubtedly, was  Cither  mad,  or  drunk,  when  he  wrote  It.  It  is  worthy  of  being 
remarked,  tlrat  Comhal  is,  in  this  poi-m,  veiy  often  called,  Comhal  im  li^Al'mn,  or 
Comhal  of  Albion,  which  fafficiently  demonftrates,  that  the  allegations  of  Keating 
•Oird  OTiaherty,  concerning  Ficn  Mac-Coirmal,  are  but  of  late  invention. 


20  CATH-LODAi 

the  fons  of  woody  Albion  returned.     But  many  lay,  by 
Turthor's  ftream,  filent  in  their  blood. 

Chief  of  Crathmo,  faid  the  king,  Duth-maruno,  hunter 
of  boars  !  not  harmlefs  returns  my  eagle,  from  the  field  of 
foes !  For  this  white-bofomed  Lanul  iliall  brighten,  at  her 
ftreams ;  Candona  iliall  rejoice,  as  he  wanders  in  Crath- 
mo's  fields. 

CoLGORM  *,  replied  the  chief,  was  the  firfl  of  my  race 
in  Albion;  Colgoim,  the  rider  of  ocean,  thro'  its  watry 
■vales.  He  flew  his  brother  in  I-thorno  -j- :  he  left  the  land 
of  his  fathers.  He  chofe  his  place,  in  filence,  by  rocky 
Crathmo-craulo.  His  race  came  forth,  in  their  years ;  they 
came  forth  to  war,  but  they  always  fell.  The  wound  of 
my  fathers  is  mine,  king  of  echoing  ifles  ! 

He  drew  an  arrow  from  his  fide !  He  fell  pale  in  a  land 
imknown.  His  foul  came  forth  to  his  fathers,  to  their 
ftormy  ifle.  There  they  purfued  boars  of  milt,  along  the 
fkirts  of  winds.  The  chiefs  flood  filent  around,  as  the 
/tones  of  Loda,  on  their  hill.  The  traveller  fees  them, 
through  the  twilight,  from  his  lonely  path.  He  thinks 
them  the  ghoils  of  the  aged,  forming  future  wars. 

Night  came  down,  on  U-thorno.  Still  flood  the  chiefs 
m  their  grief  The  blafl  whiflled,  by  turns,  thro*  every 
warrior's  hair.  Fingal,  at  length,  broke  forth  from  the 
thoughts  of  his  foul.  He  called  Uilin  of  harps,  and  bade 
the  fong  to  rife.  "  No  falling  fire,  that  is  only  feen,  and 
then  retires  in  night ;  no  departing  meteor,  was  he  that  is 
laid  fo  low.  He  was  like  the  flrong-beaming  fun,  long 
rejoicing  on  his  hill.  Call  the  names  of  bis  fathers,  from 
their  dweUinsrs  old  i" 

I-THORNo§,  faid  the  bard,  that  rifeft  midfl  ridgy  feas! 

Why 

■*  The  family  of  Duth-maruno,  it  appears,  came  orij:;inalIy  from  Scamlinavia,  or, 
3t  leafl,  from  fome  of  the  northern  ides,  fubjt^'fl,  in  chief,  to  the  kings  of  Lochhn, 
The  Highland  fenathies,  vho  never  miflcci  to  make  their  comincnfs  on,  and  ad- 
<]itions  to,  the  works  of  Offian,  have  given  us  a  long  liO  of  the  ancefiors  of  Duth- 
xnaruno,  and  a  particular  account  of  their  aftions,  many  of  v.liich  are  of  the  mar- 
vellous kind.  One  of  the  tale  makcis  of  the  north  has  chofen  for  iiis  hero,  Starn- 
TDor,  the  father  ot  Duth-maruno,  and,  conhdering  the  adventures  thro'  which  he 
has  led  him,  the  piece  is  neither  difagreeable,  nor  abounding  with  that  kind  of 
fittion,  which  fhocks  credibility. 

")■  An  lOand  of  Scandinavia. 

f)  This  cpifode  is,  in  the  original,  extremely  beautiful.   It  j$  fet  to  that  wild  kind 

of 


A    P  O  E  M.  21 

Why  IS  thy  head  fo  gloomy,  in  the  ocean's  mifl:  ?  From 
thy  vales  came  forth  a  race,  fearlefs  as  thy  ftrong  winged 
eagles ;  the  race  of  Colgorm  of  iron  fliieids,  dv/eilers  of 
Loda's  hall. 

In  Tormoth's  refounding  ifle,  arofe  Lurthan,  ftreamy 
hill.  It  bent  its  woody  head  over  a  filent  vale.  There,  at 
foamy  Cruruth's  fource,  dwelt  Rurmar,  hmiter  of  boars! 
His  daughter  was  fair  as  a  fun-beam,  white-bofomed  Stri- 
na-dona ! 

Many  a  king  of  heroes,  and  hero  of  iron  flrlelds;  many 
a  youth  of  heavy  locks,  came  to  Rurm^ar's  echoing  hail. 
They  came  to  woo  the  maid,  the  ftately  huntrefs  of  Tor- 
moth  wild.  But  thou  looked  carelefs  from  thy  ileps,  high- 
bofomed  Strina-dona ! 

If  on  the  heath  fhe  moved,  her  bread  was  whiter  than 
the  down  of  Cana* ;  if  on  the  fea-beat  fhore,  than  the  foam 
of  the  rolling  ocean.  Her  eyes  were  tvv'o  flars  of  light. 
Her  face  was  heaven's  bow  in  fliowers.  Her  dark  hair 
flowed  round  it,  like  the  dreaming  clouds.  Thou  wert 
the  dweller  of  fouls,  white-handed  Strina-dona  1 

Colgorm  came,  in  his  diip,  and  Corcul-furan,  king 
of  diells.  The  brothers  came,  from  I-thorno,  to  woo  the 
fun-beam  of  Tormoth  wild.  She  faw  them  in  their  echoing 
deel.  Her  foul  was  fixed  on  blue-eyed  Colgorm.  Ul- 
lochlin's  I  nightly  eye  looked  in,  and  faw  the  tolling  arms 
of  Strina-dona. 

Wrathful  the  brothers  frowned.  Their  flaming  eyes, 
in  filence,  met.  They  turned  away.  They  druck  their 
fhields.  Their  hands  were  trembling  on  their  fwords.  They 
rufhed  into  the  drife  of  heroes, for  long-haired  Strina-dona. 

CORCUL- 

of  mufic,  which  fome  of  the  Highlanders  diftinguifh,  by  die  title  o^  FofiCi-marra, 
or  the  Song  cf  mermaids.  Some  part  of  the  air  is  abfolutely  infernal,  but  there  are 
many  returns  in  the  meafuie,  which  are  inexpreffibly  wild  and  beautiful.  From 
the  genius  of  the  mufic,  I  fhould  think  it  came  originallv  from  Scandinavia,  for 
the  ii6bons  delivered  down  concerning  the  Oi-marra,  (who  are  reputed  the  authors 
of  the  mufic)  exatlly  corrcfpond  with  the  notions  of  the  northern  nations,  concern- 
ing their  diycc,ov  goddejfcs  of  death. — Of  all  the  names  in  this  epifode,  there  is  none 
of  a  Galic  original,  except  Strina-dona,  which  fignifies,  \},\cjlrife  of  heroes. 

*  The  Cana  is  a  certain  hind  of  grafs,  which  grows  plentiful  in  the  beathy  mo- 
raffcs  of  the  north.  Its  ftalk  is  of  the  leedy  kind,  and  it  ca-rit  s  a  tuft  of  down,  very 
much  refembling  cotton.  It  is  cxceffively  white,  and,  confsquently,  oftea  intro- 
duced by  the  bards,  in  their  fimiles  concerning  the  beauty  of  women. 

+  Ul-locblin,  the  grade  to  LochUn;  the  name  of  a  flar. 


^2 


C  ATH-LOD  A: 


CoRCUL-suRAN  fell  in  blood.  On  his  ifle,  raged  the 
ilrength  of  his  father.  He  turned  Colgorm  from  I-thorno, 
to  wander  on  all  the  winds.  In  Crathmo-craulo's  rocky 
field,  he  dwelt  by  a  foreign  flream.  Nor  darkened  the 
king  alone  ;  that  beam  of  light  was  near,  the  daughter  of 
echoing  Tormoth,  white-armed  Strina-dona  *. 

*  The  continuation  of  this  epifode  is  juft  now  in  my  hands ;  but  the  language  is 
fo  different  from,  and  the  ideas  fo  unworthy  of,  OiTian,  that  I  have  reje£ted  it,  as 
an  interpolation  by  a  modern  bard. 


C    A    T    H  -  L    O    D 


DUAN     THIRD. 


ARGUMENT. 

OSSIAN,  after  fome  general  refleftions,  defcribesthe  fituation  of  Fingal,  and  the 
pofition  of  the  army  of  Lochlin. — The  converfation  of  Slarno  and  S^v■aran. — The 
epifode  of  Corman-trunar  and  Foinar-bragal, — Starno,  from  his  own  example, 
recommends  to  Swaran,  to  furprize  Fingal,  who  had  retire^)  alone  to  a  neigh- 
bouring hill.  Upon  Swaran  s  refufal,  Starno  undertakes  the  enterprize  himfelf* 
is  overcome,  and  taken  prifoner,  by  Fingal. — He  is  difmiffed,  after  a  feverc  re- 
primand for  his  cruelty. 

"HENCE  is  the  flream  of  years?  Whither  do  they 
roll  along  ?  Where  have  they  hid,  in  mill,  their 
many-coloured  fides  ? 

I  LOOK  into  the  times  of  old,  but  they  feem  dim  to 
Ollian's  eyes,  like  reflected  moon-beams,  on  a  diflant  lake. 
Here  rife  the  red  beams  of  war  !  There,  filent,  dwells  a 
ieeble  race  !  They  mark  no  years  with  their  deeds,  as  flow 
fhey  pafs  along.  Dweller  between  the  ihields  !  thou  that 
swakefl  the  failing  foul !  defcend  from  thy  v/all,  harp  of 
Cona,  v/ith  thy  voices  three!  Come,  with  that  which 
kindles  the  paft:  rear  the  forms  of  old,  on  their  own  dark- 
brown  years ! 

U-THORNO, 


A    P  O  E  M.  ^3 

*  U-THORNO,Iiill  of  flormsjl  behold  my  race  on  thy  fide. 
Fingal  is  bending,  in  night,  over  Duth-maruno's  tomb. 
Near  him  are  the  fleps  of  his  heroes,  hunters  of  the  boar. 
Ey  Turthor's  llream  the  hoft  of  Lochlin  is  deep  in  ihades. 
The  wrathful  kings  flood  on  two  hills ;  they  looked  for- 
v/ard  from  their  bofly  fliields.  They  looked  forward  to 
the  liars  of  night,  red  wandering  in  the  weft.  Cruth-loda 
bends  from  high,  like  a  formlefs  meteor  in  clouds.  He 
fends  abroad  the  winds,  and  marks  them,  with  his  figns. 
Starno  forefaw,  that  Morven's  king  w  as  not  to  yield  in  war. 

He  twice  firuck  the  tree  in  wrath.  He  ruflied  before 
his  fon.  He  hummed  a  furly  fong;  and  heard  his  hair  in 
wind.  Turned -f- from  one  another,  they  (tood,  like  two 
oaks,  which  different  winds  had  bent ;  each  hangs  over 
its  own  round  riil,  and  fhakes  its  boughs  in  the  courfe  of 
biaits. 

"  Annir,"  faid  Starno  of  lakes,  "  was  a  fire  that  con- 
fumed  of  old.  He  poured  death  from  his  eyes,  along  the 
ftriving  fields.    His  joy  was  in  the  fall  of  men.    Blood,  to 

him, 

*  The  bards,  who  were  always  ready  to  fupply  what  they  thought  deficient  in 
the  po;'ais  of  Oflian,  have  infcrted  a  great  many  incidents  between  the  fecond  and 
third  diidn  of  Cath-!oda,  Their  interpolations  are  fo  eafily  diflinguiflred  fiom  the 
genuine  remains  of  Oflian,  that  it  took  me  very  little  time  to  maik  them  out,  and 
totally  to  rtje£t  them.  If  the  modern  Scotch  and  Lifli  bards  have  fhewn  any  judg- 
ment, it  is  in  afcribing  their  own  compofitions  to  names  of  antiquity,  for,  by  that 
means,  they  themfelves  have  efcaped  that  coritempf,  which  the  authors  of  fuch  fu- 
tile performances  muft,  neceffarily,  have  met  with  from  people  oi  tiue  tafte.  I  wa$ 
led  into  this  oblervatioii,  by  an  Infl)  poem,  jiift  now  before  me.  It  concerns  a  de- 
fcent  made  by  Swatan,  king  of  Lochlin,  on  Ireland,  and  is  the  woik,  fays  the  tra- 
ditional preface  prefixed  to  it,  oi  OJ/ian  Mac-F/on.  It  however  appears,  from  ft- 
Teral  pious  ejaculations,  that  it  was  rather  the  compofition  of  fome  good  priefl,  iii 
the  iifteenth  or  lixteenth  century,  for  he  fpeaks  with  great  devotion,  of  pilgrimage, 
and  more  particularly,  oi  \\\e- blue-eyed  daughters  of  the  ccnvciit.  Religious,  how- 
ever, as  this  poet  was,  he  was  not  altogether  decent,  in  the  fcenes  he  introduces- 
beiwetn  Swarau  and  the  wife  of  CongcuUion,  both  of  whom  he  reprcfents  as  giants. 
It  happening  unfortunately,  that  Congcitllion  was  only  of  a  moderate  flature,  his 
■wife,  without  hefitation,  preferred  Swaran,  as  a  moie  adequate  match  for  herowsi 
gigantic  fize.  From  this  fatal  preference  pioceeded  fo  much  mifchief,  that  the  good 
poet  altOCTcither  loft  fu'ht  of  his  principal  aftion,  and  he  ends  the  piece,  with  an  ad- 
vice to  men,  in  the  choice  of  their  wives,  which,  however  good  it  may  be,  1  fhaU 
leave  concealed  in  the  oblcunty  of  the  original. 

+  The  furly  attitude  of  Starno  and  Swaran  is  well  adapted  to  their  fierce  and  un- 
complying difpofitions.  Their  characters,  at  linl  fight,  feem  httle  diffeient ;  but, 
upon  examination,  we  find  that  the  poet  has  dexteroufly  diftinguilhed  between  them. 
They  were  both  dark,  flubborn,  haughty  and  referved  ;  but  Starno  was  cunmngi 
revengeful,  and  cruel,  to  the  hiij,heft  degree  ;  the  uifpofition  of  Swaran,  tho.vigh 
favage,  was  lefs  bloody,  and  fomewhat  tinfiurcd  with  generofity.  It  tc  doin|  sr- 
juftice  to  Oflian,  to  fay,  that  he  has  not  a  great  variety  of  ■  hara^Jer^;, 


24  CATH-LODA: 

him,  was  a  fummer  ftream,  that  brings  joy  to  withered 
vales,  from  its  own  mofiy  rock.  He  came  forth  to  the 
lake  Luth-cormo,  to  meet  the  tall  Corman-trunar,  he  from 
Urior  of  ftreams  ,dweller  of  battle's  wing. 

"  The  chief  of  Urlor  had  come  to  Gormal,  with  his 
dark  bofom'd  fhips.  He  faw  the  daughter  of  Annir,  white- 
armed  Foina-bragal.  He  faw  her  !  Norcarelefs  rolled  her 
eyes,  on  the  rider  of  ftormy  waves.  She  fled  to  his  fhip 
in  darknefs,  like  a  moon-beam  through  a  nightly  vale. 
Annir  pursued  along  the  deep ;  he  called  the  winds  of 
heaven.  Nor  alone  was  the  king!  Starno  was  by  his  fide. 
Like  U-thorno's  young  eagle,  I  turned  my  eyes  on  my 
father. 

*'  We  rufhed  into  roaring  Urlor.  With  his  people  came 
tall  Corman-trunar.  We  fought ;  but  the  foe  prevailed. 
In  his  wrath  my  father  flood.  He  lopped  the  young  trees 
with  his  fword.  His  eyes  rolled  in  his  rage.  I  marked  the 
foul  of  the  king,  and  I  retired  in  night.  From  the  field 
I  took  a  broken  helmet :  a  fhie!d  that  was  pierced  with 
fteel :  pointlefs  was  the  fpear  in  my  hand.  I  went  to  find 
the  foe. 

"  On  a  rock  fat  tall  Corman-trunar,  befide  his  burning 
oak ;  and  near  him,  beneath  a  tree,  fat  deep-bofomed 
Foina-bragal.  I  threw  my  broken  fliield  before  her.  I 
fpoke  the  words  of  peace.  "  Befide  his  rolling  fea,  lies 
Annir  of  many  lakes.  The  king  was  pierced  in  battle  ; 
and  Starno  is  to  raife  his  tomb.  Me,  a  fon  of  Loda,  he  fends 
to  white-handed  Foina,  to  bid  her  fend  a  lock  from  her 
hair,  to  reft  with  her  father,  in  earth.  And  thou,  king  of 
roaring  Urlor,  let  the  battle  ceafe,  till  Annir  receive  the 
fhell,  from  fiery-eyed  Cruth-loda." 

"  *BuRSTiNG  into  tears,  fhe  rofe,  and  tore  a  lock  from 
her  hair  ;  a  lock  which  wandered,  in  the  blafl,  along  her 
heaving  breaft.  Corman-trunar  gave  the  fhell ;  and  bade 
me  to  rejoice  before  him.     I  refled  in  the  fhade  of  night ; 

and 

*  Oflian  is  very  partial  to  the  fair  fex.  Even  the  daughter  of  the  cruel  Annir, 
the  fifter  of  the  revengeful  and  bloody  Starno,  partakes  not  of  thofe  difagreeable 
charafters  fo  peculiar  to  her  family.  She  is  altogether  tender  and  delicate.  Ho- 
mer, of  all  ancient  poets,  nfes  the  fex  with  the  lead  ceremony.  His  cold  contempt 
is  even  worfe,  than  the  downright  abufe  of  the  moderns;  for  to  draw  abufe  impli^ 
the  pofleiTion  of  Tome  merit. 


A    P  O  E  M.  25 

and  hid  my  face  in  my  helmet  deep.  Sleep  defcended  on 
the  foe.  I  rofe,  like  a  (talking  ghoft.  I  pierced  the  fide  of 
Corman-trunar.  Nor  did  Foina-bragal  efcape.  She  rolled 
her  white  bofom  in  blood. 

"  Why,  then,  daughter  of  heroes,  didfl  thou  wake  my 
rage  ? 

"  Morning  rofe.  The  foe  were  fled,  like  the  departure 
of  mift.  Annir  llruck  his  bolTy  Ihield.  He  called  his 
dark-haired  fon.  I  came,  ftreaked  with  wandering  blood. 
Thrice  rofe  the  fliout  of  the  king,  like  the  burfting  forth 
of  a  fquall  of  a  wind,  from  a  cloud,  by  night.  We  re- 
joiced, three  days,  above  the  dead,  and  called  the  hawks 
of  heaven.  They  came,  from  all  their  winds,  to  feail  on 
Annir's  foes.  Swaran!  Fingal  is  alone*,  on  his  hill  of 
night.  Let  thy  fpear  pierce  the  king  in  fecret  j  like  An- 
nir, my  foul  fhall  rejoice." 

"  Son  of  Annir,"  faid  Swaran,  "  I  fhall  not  flay  in 
fliades.  I  move  forth  in  light ;  the  hawks  rufli  from  all 
their  winds.  They  are  wont  to  trace  my  courfe  j  it  is  not 
harmlefs  through  war." 

Burning  rofe  the  rage  of  the  king.  He  thrice raifed 
his  gleaming  fpear  :  but,  fliarting,  he  fpared  his  fon,  and 
ruflied  into  the  night.  By  Turthor's  fliream  a  cave  is 
dark,  the  dwelling  of  Conban-carglas.  There  he  laid  the 
helmet  of  kings,  and  called  the  maid  of  Lulan ;  but  flie 
was  difl:ant  far,  in  Loda*s  refounding  hall. 

Swelling  in  his  rage,  he  Itrode,  to  where  Fingal  lay 
alone.  The  king  was  laid  on  his  fliield,  on  his  own  fecret 
hill. 

Stern  hunter  of  fliaggy  boars  !  no  feeble  maid  is  laid 
before  thee — No  boy,  on  his  ferny  bed,  by  Turthor's  mur- 
muring fl;ream.  Here  is  fpread  the  couch  of  the  mighty, 
from  which  they  rife  to  deeds  of  death  !  Hunter  of  ^aggy 
boars,  awaken  not  the  terrible  ! 

Starno  came  murmuring  on,  Fingal  arofe  in  arms, 
*'  Who  art  thou,  fon  of  night  r"    Silent  he  threw  the 

D  fpear. 

*  Fingal,  according  to  the  cuRom  of  the  Caledonian  kings,  had  retired  to  a  hill 
alone,  as  he  himielf  was  to  refume  the  command  of  the  army  the  next  day,  Starno 
might  have  feme  intelligence  of  the  king's  retiring,  which  occafions  In.i  reqiieft  to 
Swaran,  to  fiab  him;  as  he  lorefaw,  by  his  art  in  divination, that  he  could  rj©t  over- 
come him  in  open  battle. 


26  C  A  T  H .  L  O  D  A: 

fpear.  They  mixed  their  gloomy  ftrife.  The  fliield  of 
Starno  fell,  cleft  in  twain.  He  is  bound  to  an  oak.  The 
early  beam  arofe.  It  was  then  Fingal  beheld  the  king. 
He  rolled  a  while  his  filent  eyes.  He  thought  of  other  days, 
when  white-bofomed  Agandecca  moved  like  the  mufic  of 
fongs.  He  loofed  the  thong  from  his  hands.  Son  of  An- 
nir,  he  faid,  retire.  Retire  to  Gormal  of  {hells ;  a  beam 
that  was  fet  returns.  I  remember  thy  white-bofomed 
daughter :  dreadful  king,  away  !  Go  to  thy  troubled 
dwelling,  cloudy  foe  of  the  lovely !  Let  the  llranger  Ihun 
thee,  thou  gloomy  in  the  hall ! 
A  TALE  of  the  times  of  old  ! 


COM  ALA: 


COMA 


A 


DRAMATIC     POEM. 


ARGUMENT, 

1  HIS  poem  is  valuable  on 'account  of  the  light  it  throws  on  the  antiquity  of  Oflian's 
compefitions.  The  Caracul  mentioned  here  is  the  fame  with  Caracalla  the  foB 
of  Severus,  who  in  the  year  211  commanded  an  expedition  againft  the  Caledo- 
nians. The  variety  of  the  meafurc  (hews  that  the  poem  was  originally  fct  to 
TTufic,  and  perhaps  prefented  before  the  chiefs  upon  folemn  occafions.  Tradi- 
tion has  handed  down  the  ftory  more  complete  than  it  is  in  the  poem.  "  Co- 
jnala,  the  daughter  of  Sarno  king  of  Iniftorc  or  Orkney  iflands,  fell  in  love  with 
Fingal  the  fon  of  Comhal  at  a  feaft,  to  which  her  father  had  invited  him,  [Fin- 
gal,  B.  III.]  upon  his  return  from  Lochlln,  after  the  death  of  Agandecca.  Her 
paffion  was  fo  violent,  that  fhe  followed  him,  difguifed  like  a  youth,  who  wanted 
to  be  employed  in  his  wars.  She  was  foon  difcovered  by  Hidallan  the  fon  of 
Xamor,  one  of  Fingal's  heroes,  whofe  love  fhe  had  flighted  fome  time  before. 
Her  romantic  paffion  and  beauty  recommended  her  fo  much  to  the  king,  that  he 
had  refolved  to  make  her  his  wife ;  when  the  news  was  brought  him  of  Caracul's 
expedition.  He  marched  to  flop  the  progrefs  of  the  enemy,  and  Comala  attended 
him.  He  left  her  on  a  hill,  within  fight  of  Caracul's  army,  when  he  himfelf 
"went  to  battle,  having  previoufly  promifed,  if  he  furvived,  to  return  that  night,'* 
The  fequel  of  the  flory  may  be  gathered  from  the  poem  itfelf. 


C      O       M       A      L      A  : 

A 

DRAMATIC     POEM. 

THE   PERSONS. 

FINGAL.  MELILCOMA,  7  ,,  „„, 

'  C  DAUGHTESS   OF   MORNI. 

HIDALLAN.  DERSAGRENA,       i 

COMALA.  BARDS. 


Dersagrena. 

THE  chace  is  over.  No  noife  on  Ardven  but  the  tor- 
rent's roar!  Daughter  of  Morni,  come  from  Crona's 
banks.  Lay  down  the  bow  and  take  the  harp.  Let  the 
night  come  on  with  fongs,  let  our  joy  be  great  on  Ardven. 

Melilcoma*. 

Night  comes  apace,  thou  blue-eyed  maid ;  grey  night 
grows  dim  along  the  plain.  I  faw  a  deer  at  Crona's  llream; 
3,  moffy  bank  he  feemed  through  the  gloom,  but  foon  he 
bounded  away.  A  meteor  played  round  his  branching 
horns !  the  awful  faces  -j-  of  other  times  looked  from  the 
clouds  of  Crona ! 

Dersagrena  ||. 

These  are  the  figns  of  Fingal's  death.  The  king  of 
fhields  is  fallen  !  and  Caracul  prevails.  Rife,  Comala  §, 
from  thy  rock ;  daughter  of  Sarno,  rife  in  tears.  The 
youth  of  thy  love  is  low ;  his  ghofl  is  on  our  hills. 

Melilcoma. 

*  'M.t\\\covi\'&,—foft-rollingeye. 

t  Apparent  dirce  fades,  inimicaque  Troja 

Numina  magna  deum.  VIRG. 

dreadful    founds  I  hear, 
And  the  dire  form  of  hoftile  gods  appear.         DRYD. 
II  Derfagrena,  the  brightnefs  of  a  fun-beam, 
\  Comala,  tk  maid  of  the  pkafani,  brow* 


go  C    O    M    A    L    A: 

Melilcoma. 
Thep.e  Comala  fits  forlorn!  two  grey  dogs  near  {Iiake 
their  rough  ears,  and  catch  the  flying  breeze.  Her  red 
cheek  refts  upon  her  arm,  the  mountain  wind  is  in  her 
hair.  She  turns  her  blue  eyes  toward  the  field  of  his  pro- 
mife.     Where  art  thou,  O  Fingal,  the  night  is  gathering 

=^°^"^-  Comala. 

O  Carun  *  of  the  llreams!  why  do  I  behold  thy  waters 
Tolling  in  blood  ?  Has  the  noife  of  the  battle  been  heard; 
and  lleeps  the  king  of  Morven?  Rife,  moon,  thou  daugh- 
ter of  the  (ky  !  look  from  between  thy  clouds  ;  rife,  that  I 
may  behold  the  gleam  of  his  fteel,  on  the  field  of  his  pro- 
mife.  Or,  rather,  let  the  meteor  that  lights  our  fathers 
through  the  night,  come,  with  its  red  beam,  to  fhew  me 
the  way  to  my  fallen  hero.  Who  will  defend  me  from 
forrow  ?  Who,  from  the  love  of  Hidallan  ?  Long  fhall 
Comala  look  before  fhe  can  behold  Fingal  in  the  midfl  of 
his  holl ;  bright  as  the  coming  forth  of  the  morning,  in 
the  cloud  of  an  early  fhower. 

Hidallan  f. 

Dwell,  thou  mill  of  gloomy  Crona,  dwell  on  the  path 
of  the  king.  Hide  his  fleps  from  mine  eyes,  let  me  re- 
member my  friend  no  more.  The  bands  of  battle  are 
fcattered,  no  crowding  tread  is  round  the  noife  of  his 
iteel.  O  Carun,  roll  thy  (beams  of  blood,  the  chief  of 
the  people  is  low.  Comala. 

Who  fell  on  Carun's  founding  banks,  fon  of  the  cloudy 
night  ?   Was  he  white  as  the  fnow  of  Ardven  ?  Blooming 

as 

*  Carun  or  Cara'en,  a  winding  river. — This  river  retains  ftill  the  name  of  Carron, 
smd  falls  into  the  Forth  fome  miles  to  the  North  of  Falisirk. 

Gcntefque  alias  cum  pclUret  armis 

Sedilrus,  ml  vitlas  vikmfervaret  in  vfum 

Servitii,  hie  contcntajuos  defendcre Jines 

Romafecurigcris  pratendit.  mania  Scotis: 

Hicfpe  progrejfns  pofita,  Car  mis  ad  undam 

Terminus  Aujoniifignat  divortia  regni.  BUCHANAN. 

+  Hidallan  was  fent  by  Fingal  to  give  notice  to  Comala  of  his  return ;  he,  to  re- 
venge himfelf  on  her  for  flighting  his  love  fome  time  before,  told  her  that  the  kmg 
■was  killed  in  battle.  He  even  pretended  that  he  carried  his  body  from  the  field 
to  be  buried  in  her  prefence;  and  this  circumftance  makes  it  probable  that  the 
poem  v,as  nrefentcd  of  old, 


A   DRAMATIC    POEM.  31 

as  the  bow  of  the  {liower  ?  Was  his  hair  Hke  the  mill  of 
the  hill,  foft  and  curling  in  the  day  of  the  fun  ?  Was  he 
like  the  thunder  of  heaven  in  battle  ?  Fleet  as  the  roe  of 
thedefart?  Hidallan. 

O  THAT  I  might  behold  his  love,  fair-leaning  from  her 
rock !  Her  red  eye  dim  in  tears,  her  blufliing  cheek  half 
hid  in  her  locks !  Blow,  O  gentle  breeze,  lift  thou  the 
heavy  locks  of  the  maid,  that  I  may  behold  her  white  arm, 
her  lovely  cheek  in  her  grief. 

COMALA. 

And  is  the  fon  of  Comhal  fallen,  chief  of  the  mournful 

tale  ?    The  thunder  rolls  on  the  hill !    The  lightning^  flies 

on  wings  of  fire  !  They  frighten  not  Comala ;  for  Fingal 

is  low.    Say,  chief  of  the  mournful  tale,  fell  the  breaker 

of  the  fhields  ?  tt 

Hidallan. 

The  nations  are  fcattered  on  the  hills !  they  fhall  hear 

the  voice  of  the  king  no  more. 

Comala. 

Confusion  purfue  thee  over  thy  plains  !  Ruin  overtake 
thee,  thou  king  of  the  world !  Few  be  thy  fteps  to  thy 
grave ;  and  let  one  virgin  mourn  thee :  let  her  be  like 
Comala,  tearful  in  the  days  of  her  youth.  Why  haft  thou 
told  me,  Hidallan,  that  my  hero  fell  ?  I  might  have  hoped 
a  little  while  his  return  ;  I  might  have  thought  I  faw  him 
on  the  diftant  rock  ;  a  tree  might  have  deceived  me  with 
his  appearance  ;  the  wind  of  the  hill  might  have  been  the 
found  of  his  horn  in  mine  ear.  O  that  I  were  on  the  banks 
of  Carun!  that  my  tears  might  be  warm  on  his  cheek  1 

Hidallan. 

He  lies  not  on  the  banks  of  Carun ;  on  Ardven,  heroes 
raife  his  tomb.  Look  on  them,  O  moon,  from  thy  clouds; 
be  thy  beam  bright  on  his  bread,  that  Comala  may  behold 
him  in  the  light  of  his  armour. 

Comala. 
Stop,  ye  fons  of  the  grave,  till  I  behold  my  love !  He 
left  me  at' the  chace  alone.     I  knew  net  that  he  went  to 

war. 


32  C    O    M    A    L    A : 

war.     He  fald  he  would  return  with  the  night ;  the  king 

of  Morven  is  returned !   Why  didfl  thou  not  tell  me  that 

he  would  fall,  O  trembling  dweller  of  the  rock  *  !  Thou 

faweft  him  in  the  blood  of  his  youth  ;  but  thou  didfl  not 

tell  Comala  !  t,  ^ 

Melilcoma, 

What  found  is  that  on  Ardven?  Who  is  that,  bright  in 
the  vale,  who  comes  like  the  ftrength  of  rivers,  when 
their  crouded  waters  glitter  to  the  moon  ? 

CoMALA. 

Who  is  it  but  the  foe  of  Comala,  the  fon  of  the  king  of 
the  world !  Ghoft  of  Fingal !  do  thou,  from  thy  cloud, 
direft  Comala's  bow.  Let  him  fall  like  the  hart  of  the  de- 
fart.  It  is  Fingal,  in  the  crowd  of  his  ghofts.  Why  dofl 
thou  come,  my  love,  to  frighten  and  pleafe  my  foul  ? 

Fingal. 

Raise,  ye  bards,  the  fong,  raife  the  wars  of  the  ftreamy 
Carun !  Caracul  has  fled  from  our  arms  along  the  fields  of 
his  pride.  He  fets  far  diftant  like  a  meteor,  that  inclofes  a 
fpirit  of  night,  when  the  winds  drive  it  over  the  heath,  and 
the  dark  woods  are  gleaming  around.  I  heard  a  voice,  or 
was  it  the  breeze  of  my  hills?  Is  it  the  huntrefs  of  Ardven, 
the  white-handed  daughter  of  Sarno  ?  Look  from  thy 
rocks,  my  love  j  let  me  hear  the  voice  of  Comala! 

Comala. 
Take  me  to  the  cave  of  thy  refl,  O  lovely  fon  of  death! 

Fingal. 
Come  to  the  cave  of  my  reft.     The  florm  is  pafl,  the 
fun  is  on  our  fields.    Come  to  the  cave  of  my  reft,  huntrefs 
of  echoing  Ardven ! 

Comala. 

He  is  returned  with  his  fame !  I  feel  the  right  hand  of 
his  wars !  But  I  mull  refl  befide  the  rock  till  my  foul 
returns  from  my  fear  !  O  let  the  harp  be  near  !  raife  the 
fong,  ye  daughters  of  Morni !  ■ 

Dersagrena, 

*  By  the  dwdler  of  the  rack  fne  means  a  druld.   It  is  probable  that  fome  of  the  or- 
der of  the  druids  remained  as  late  as  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Fingal ;  and  that 
,  Comala  had  confultcd  cnc  of  them  concerning  the  event  of  the  war  with  Caracul. 


A    DRAMATIC    POEM.  33 

Dersagrena. 

CoMALA  has  llain  three  deer  on  Ardven,  the  fire  afcends 
on  the  rock;  go  to  the  feaft  of  Comala,  king  of  the  woody 

^°"''''  FlNGAL. 

Raise,  ye  fons  of  fong,  the  wars  of  the  ftreamy  Carim; 

that  my  white-handed  maid  may  rejoice :  while  I  behold 

the  feafl  of  my  love.         t> 

^  Bards. 

Roll,  ftreamy  Carun,  roll  in  joy,  the  fons  of  battle  fled! 
The  fteed  is  not  feen  on  our  fields;  the  wings*  of  their 
pride  fpread  in  other  lands.  The  fun  will  now  rife  in  peace, 
and  the  Ihadows  defcend  in  joy ;  the  voice  of  the  chace 
be  heard  ;  the  ihields  hang  in  the  hall.  Our  delight  will 
be  in  the  war  of  the  ocean,  our  hands  fhall  grow  red  in. 
the  blood  of  Lochlin.  Roll,  ftreamy  Carun,  roll  in  joy, 
the  fons  of  battle  fled  ! 

Melilcoma. 

Descend,  ye  light  mifts  from  high !  Ye  moon-beams, 
lift  her  foul.  Pale  lies  the  maid  at  the  rock !  Com.da  is  no 
more !  -n 

tiNGAL. 

Is  the  daughter  of  Sarno  dead;  the  white-bofomed  maid 
of  my  love  ?  Meet  me,  Comala,  on  my  heaths,  when  I  fit 
alone  at  the  ftreams  of  my  hills  ! 

HiDALLAN. 

Ceased  the  voice  of  the  huntrefs  of  Ardven!  Why  did 
I  trouble  the  foul  of  the  maid?  When  ftiall  I  fee  thee,  with 
joy,  in  the  chace  of  the  dark-brown  hinds  ? 

FiNGAL. 

Youth  of  the  gloomy  brow!  no  more  fhalt  thou  feaft  in 
my  halls.  Thou  ihalt  not  purfue  my  chace,  my  foes  ftiall 
not  fall  by  thy  fword  |.  Lead  me  to  the  place  of  her  reft 
that  I  may  behold  her  beauty.  Pale  flie  lies  at  the  rock, 
the  cold  winds  lift  her  hair.  Her  bow-ftring  founds  in  the 
blaft,  her  arrow  was  broken  in  her  fall.     Raife  the  praife 

E  of 

*  Perhaps  the  poet  alludes  to  the  Roman  eagle. 

t  The  fet^uel  of  the  flory  of  Hidallan  is  introduced  in  another  poem. 


34  COMAL    A. 

of  the  daughter  of  Sarno !  give  her  name  to  the  winds  of 
^^^^^^'  Bards. 

See!  meteors  gleam  around  the  maid!  See,  moon-beams 
lift  her  foul !  Around  her,  from  their  clouds,  bend  the  awful 
faces  of  her  fathers ;  Sarno  f  of  the  gloomy  brow !  the 
red-rolling  eyes  of  Fidallan !  When  Ihall  thy  white  hand 
arife  ?  When  fhall  thy  voice  be  heard  on  our  rocks  ?  The 
maids  fliall  feek  thee  on  the  heath,  but  they  fhall  not  find 
thee.  Thou  fhalt  come,  at  times,  to  their  dreams,  to  fettle 
peace  in  their  foul.  Thy  voice  fhall  remain  in  their  ears, 
they  fhall  think  with  joy  on  the  dreams  of  their  reft.  Me- 
teors gleam  around  the  maid,  and  moon-beams  lift  her 
foul! 

+  Sarno,  the  father  of  Comala,  died  foon  after  the  flight  of  his  daughter.  Fi- 
dallan was  thefirft  king  that  reigned  inlniftore. 


C  A  R  R  I  C- 


CARRIC-THU 


POEM. 


ARGUMENT. 

FINGAL,  returning  from  an  expedition  which  he  had  made  into  the  Roman  pro- 
vince, refolved  to  vifit  CathuUa  king  of  Iniftore,  and  brother  to  Comala,  whofe 
flory  is  related  at  large,  in  the  preceding  dramatic  poem.  Upon  his  coming  in 
fight  of  Carric-thura,  the  palace  of  Cathulla,  he  obferved  a  flame  on  its  top, 
which,  in  thofe  days,  was  a  fignal  of  diflrcfs.  The  wind  drove  them  into  a  bay, 
at  fome  diftance  from  Carric-thura,  and  he  was  obliged  to  pafs  the  night  on  the 
Jhore.  Next  day  he  attacked  the  army  of  Frothal  king  of  Sora,  who  had  befieged 
Cathulla  in  his  palace  of  Carric-thura,-  and  took  Frothal  hinifelf  prifoner,  after 
he  had  engaged  him  in  fingle  combat.  The  deliverance  of  Carric-thura  is  the 
fubjctl  of  the  poem,  but  feveral  other  epifodes  are  interwoven  with  it.  It  ap- 
pears from  tradition,  that  this  poem  was  addreffed  to  a  Culdee,  or  one  of  the 
£r(l  Chiiftian  mifhonaries,  and  that  the  ftory  of  the  Spirit  of  Loda,  fuppofed  to 
be  the  ancient  Odin  of  Scandinavia,  was  introduced  by  OflTian  in  oppofition  to 
the  Culdee's  doftrine.  Be  this  as  it  will,  it  lets  us  into  Offian'i  notions  of  a 
fuperior  being;  and  fhews  that  he  was  not  addifled  to  the  fuperftition  whiclj 
prevailed  all  the  world  over,  before  the  introdu£lion  of  Chriftianity. 


CARRIC-THURA: 

A 

POEM. 

HAST  *  thou  left  thy  blue  courfe  In  heaven,  golden- 
haired  fon  of  the  iky!  The  weft  has  opened  its  gates; 
the  bed  of  thy  repofe  is  there.  The  waves  come  to  behold 
thy  beauty.  They  lift  their  trembling  heads.  They  fee 
thee  lovely  in  thy  fleep ;  they  flirink  away  with  fear.  Reft 
in  thy  Ihadowy  cave,  O  fun !    let  thy  return  be  in  joy. 

But  let  a  thoufand  lights  arife  to  the  found  of  the  harps 
of  Selma :  let  the  beam  fpread  in  the  hall,  the  king  of 
iliells  is  returned  !  The  ftrife  of  Crona  is  paft  -f,  like  founds 
that  are  no  more.  Raife  the  fong,  O  bards,  the  king  is 
returned,  with  his  fame! 

Such  were  the  words  of  Ullin,  v/hen  Finp-al  returned 
from  war:  when  he  returned  in  the  fair  blufliing  of  youth, 
with  all  his  heavy  locks.  His  blue  arms  were  on  the  hero; 
like  a  light  cloud  on  the  fun,  when  he  moves  in  his  robes 
of  mift,  an,d  fliews  but  half  his  beams.  His  heroes  follow 
the  king :  the  feaft  of  ftiells  is  fpread.  Fingal  turns  to  his 
bards,  and  bids  the  fong  to  raife. 

Voices  of  echoing  Cona!  he  faid,  O  bards  of  other 
times !  Ye,  on  whofe  fouls  the  blue  hofts  of  our  fathers 
rifel  ftrike  the  harp  in  my  hall;  and  let  me  hear  the  fong. 
Pleafant  is  the  joy  of  grief!  it  is  like  the  fliower  of  fpring,' 
when  it  foftens  the  branch  of  the  oak,  and  the  young  leaf 
rears  its  green  head.  Sing  on,  O  bards,  to-morrow  we' 
lift  the  fail.     My  blue  courfe  is  through  the  ocean,  to 

Carric- 

*  The  fong  of  Ullin,  with  which  the  poem  opens,  is  in  a  lyric  meafure.  It 
\vas  ufual  with  Fingal,  when  he  returned  from  his  expeditions,  to  fend  his  bards 
finging  before  him.  This  fpecies  of  triumph  is  called,  by  Offian,  the  Jot? g  of  vic- 
tory. 

+  Ollian  has  celebrated  thejirife  of  Crona,  in  a  particular  poem.  This  poem  is 
fonnetled  with  it,  but  it  was  impoffible  for  the  tranflator  to  procure  that  part  whick 
relates  to  Crona  with  any  degree  of  purity. 


38 


CARRIC-T  HUR  A 


Carrlc-thura's  wails ;  the  mofly  walls  of  Sarno,  where  Co- 
maia  dv/elt.  There  the  noble  Cathulla,  fpreads  the  feaft 
of  fliells.  The  boars  of  his  woods  are  many  ;  the  found 
of  the  chace  fhall  arife  ! 

C  RON  NAN  *,  fon  of  the  king  !  fald  Ullm,  Minona, 
graceful  at  the  harp!  raife  the  tale  of  Shilric,  to  pleafe  the 
king  of  Morven.  Let  Vinvela  come  in  her  beauty,  like 
the  fliowery  bow,  when  it  fiiews  its  lovely  head  on  the  lake, 
and  the  fetting  fun  is  bright.  She  comes,  O  Fingal !  her 
voice  is  foft  but  fad. 

Vinvela. 

My  love  is  a  fon  of  the  hill.  He  purfues  the  flying  deer. 
His  grey  dogs  are  panting  around  him ;  his  bow-firing 
founds  in  the  wind.  Doft  thou  reft  by  the  fount  of  the 
rock,  or  by  the  noife  of  the  mountain-ftream  ?  The  ruflies 
are  nodding  to  the  wind,  the  mift  flies  over  the  hill.  I  will 
approach  my  love  unfeen ;  I  will  behold  him  from  the 
rock.  Lovely  I  faw  thee  firft  by  the  aged  oak  of  Branno-j-; 
thou  wert  returning  tall  from  the  chace  j  the  faireft  among 
thy  friends.  c- 

•^  bHILRIC. 

What  voice  is  that  I  hear?  that  voice  like  the  fummer- 
wind !  I  fit  not  by  the  nodding  rufiies ;  I  hear  not  the 
fount  of  the  rock.  Afar,  Vinvela  ||,  afar,  I  go  to  the  wars 
of  Fingal.  My  dogs  attend  me  no  more.  No  more  I  tread 
the  hill.  No  more  from  on  high  I  fee  thee,  fair-moving 
by  the  ftream  of  the  plain  ;  bright  as  the  bow  of  heaven  j 
as  the  moon  on  the  weftern  wave. 

Vinvela. 

Then  thou  art  gone,  O  Shilric!  I  am  alone  on  the  hill! 
The  deer  are  feen  on  the  brow  j  void  of  fear  they  graze 

along. 

*  One  flionld  think  that  the  parts  of  Shilric  and  Vinvela  were  reprefented  by 
Cronrian  and  Minona,  whofe  very  names  denote  that  they  were  fingers,  who  per- 
formed in  public.  Cronnan  fignifies  a  mournful  found,  Mmona,  or  l>j{in-6rm,foft 
civ.  All  the  dramatic  poems  of  Ofiian  appear  to  have  been  prefented  before  Fin- 
c;al  npon  folernn  occalions. 

+  Bran,  or  Branno,  {i^m{\t%  zvioimtainflrcam:  it  is  here  fome  river  known  by 
that  name,  in  the  days  of  Offian.  There  are  feveral  fmall  rivers  in  the  north  of 
Scotland  filll  retaining  the  nanle  of  Bran;  in  particular  one  which  falls  into  the 
Tav  at  Dunkeld. 

I  Bhin-bheul,  a  woman  with  a  mdcdions  voice,  Bh  in  the  Galic  language  has  the 
fame  found  with  the  v  in  Englifh, 


A    POEM. 


39 


along.  No  more  they  dread  the  wind ;  no  more  the  nifl- 
ling  tree.  The  hunter  is  far  removed ;  he  is  in  the  field 
of  graves.    Strangers  !  fons  of  the  waves  !  fpare  my  lovely 

^hilncJ  Shilric. 

If  fall  I  miift  in  the  field,  raife  high  my  grave,  Vinvela. 
Grey  ftones  and  heaped-up  earth,  fhall  mark  me  to  future 
times.  When  the  hunter  fhall  fit  by  the  mound,  and  pro-r 
duce  his  food  at  noon,  "  Some  warrior  refts  here,"  he  v/ill 
fay;  and  my  fame  fliall  live  in  his  praife.  Remember  me, 
Vinvela,  when  low  on  earth  I  lie  ! 

Vinvela. 

Yes  !  I  will  remember  thee;  alas !  my  Shilric  ^vill  fail! 
What  ftiall  I  do,  my  love !  when  thou  art  for  ever  gone .? 
Through  thefe  hills  I  will  go  at  noon :  I  will  go  through 
the  filent  heath.  There  I  will  fee  the  place  of  thy  reft,  re- 
turning from  the  chace.  Alas !  my  Shirlic  will  fall ;  but 
I  will  remember  Shilric. 

And  I  remember  the  chief,  faid  the  king  of  woody 
Morven  ;  he  confumed  the  battle  in  his  rage.  But  now 
my  eyes  behold  him  not.  I  met  him,  one  day,  on  the  hill ; 
his  cheek  was  pale ;  his  brow  was  dark.  The  figh  was 
frequent  in  his  breaft :  his  fteps  were  towards  the  defart. 
But  now  he  is  not  in  the  crou^d  of  my  chiefs,  when  the 
founds  of  my  {liields  arife.  Dwells  he  in  the  narrow  houfe*, 
the  chief  of  high  Carmora  -f  ? 

Cronnan  !  faid  Ullin  of  other  times,  raife  the  fong  of 
Shilric ;  when  he  returned  to  his  hills,  and  Vinvela  was 
no  more.  He  leaned  on  her  grey  moify  ftone ;  he  thought 
Vinvela  lived.  He  faw  her  fair  moving  ||  on  the  plain ;  but 
the  bright  form  lafted  not :  the  fun-beam  fled  from  the 
field,  and  fhe  was  feen  no  mere.  Hear  the  fong  of  Shilric, 
it  is  foft  but  fad ! 

I  SIT  by  the  mofly  fountain  ;  on  the  top  of  the  hill  of 
winds.  One  tree  is  ruftling  above  me.  Dark  waves  roll 
over  the  heath.    The  lake  is  troubled  below.     The  deer 

defcend 

*  The  grave. 

+  Carn^mor,  /ligk  rocky  hi!. 

\\  The  diftinclion  which  the  ancient  Scots  made:  between  good  and  h?.d  fpirits, 
was,  that  the  former  appeared  fometimes,  in  the  day-time,  in  lonely  unfre(]uente«< 
places,  but  the  latter  never  but  by  night,  and  in  a  dil'mal  gloomy  I'cene. 


40  CARRIC-THURA: 

defcend  from  the  hill.  No  hunter  at  a  diftance  Is  feen. 
It  is  mid-day:  but  all  is  filent.  Sad  are  my  thoughts  alone* 
Didft  thou  but  appear,  O  my  love,  a  wanderer  on  the 
heath !  thy  hair  floating  on  the  wind  behind  thee ;  thy 
bofom  heaving  on  the  fight ;  thine  eyes  full  of  tears  for 
thy  friends,  whom  the  mill  of  the  hill  had  concealed!  Thee 
I  v/ould  comfort,  my  love,  and  bring  thee  to  thy  father's 
houfe ! 

But  is  it  fhe  that  there  appears,  like  a  beam  of  light  on 
the  heath  ?  Bright  as  the  moon  in  autumn,  as  the  fun  in  a 
fuinmer-ilorm,  comefl  thou,  O  maid,  over  rocks,  over 
mountains  to  me  ?  She  fpeaks :  but  how  weak  her  voice  i 
like  the  breeze  in  the  reeds  of  the  lake. 

"  Return  EST  thou  faie  from  the  war  ?  Where  are  thy 
friends,  my  love?  I  heard  of  thy  death  on  the  hill;  I  heard 
and  mourned  thee,  Shilric  !'*  Yes,  my  fair,  I  return;  but 
I  alone  of  my  race.  Thou  flialt  fee  them  no  more  :  their 
graves  I  raifed  on  the  plain.  But  why  art  thou  on  the 
defart  hill  ?    Why  on  the  heath  alone  ? 

"  Alone  I  am,  O  Shilric !  alone  in  the  winter-houfe. 
With  grief  for  thee  1  fell.    Shilric,  I  am  pale  in  the  tomb." 

She  fleets,  flie  fails  away,  as  mid  before  the  wind!  and, 
wilt  thou  not  ftay,  Vinvela  ?  Stay  and  behold  my  tears ! 
Fair  thou  appeared,  Vinvela !  fair  thou  wafl:,  when  alive ! 

By  the  mofly  fountain  I  will  fit ;  on  the  top  of  the  hill 
of  winds.  When  mid-day  is  filent  around,  O  talk  with 
me,  Vinvela!  come  on  the  light-winged  gale!  on  the  breeze 
of  the  defart,  come!  Let  me  hear  thy  voice,  as  thou  paifefl:, 
v/hen  mid-day  is  filent  around ! 


Such  was  the  fong  of  Cronnan,  on  the  night  of  Selma*s 
joy.  But  morning  rofe  in  the  eafl:;  the  blue  waters  rolled 
in  light.  Fingal  bade  his  fails  to  rife ;  the  winds  came 
rufl:ling  from  their  hills,  Iniftore  rofe  to  fight,  and  Carric- 
thura's  moiTy  towers !  But  the  fign  of  diftrefs  was  on  their 
top  :  the  warning  flame  edged  v/ith  fmoke.  The  king  £»f 
Morven  fliruck  his  bread  :  he  aflumed,  at  once,  his  fpear. 
His  darkened  brow  bends  forward  to  the  coalt :  he  looks 
back  to  the  lagging  winds.  His  hair  is  difordere(i  on  his 
back.    The  filence  of  the  king  is  terrible ! 

Night 


A    P  O  E  M.  41 

Night  came  down  on  the  fea ;  Rotha's  bay  received 
the  Ihip.  A  rock  bends  along  the  coail  with  all  its  echoing 
wood.  On  the  top  is  the  circle  *  of  Loda,  the  mofly  ftonc 
of  power  !  A  narrow  plain  fpreads  beneath,  covered  with 
grafs  and  aged  trees,  which  the  midnight  winds,  in  their 
wrath,  had  torn  from  the  fhaggy  rock.  The  blue  courfe  of 
a  ftream  is  there !  the  lonely  blafl  of  ocean  pm-fues  the 
thiftle's  beard.  The  flame  of  three  oaks  arofe  :  the  feaft 
is  fpread  around  :  but  the  foul  of  the  king  is  fad,  for  Car- 
ric-thura's  chief  diilreft. 

The  wan,  cold  moon  rofe,  in  the  eaft.  Sleep  defcended 
on  the  youths  !  Their  blue  helmets  glitter  to  the  beam  ; 
the  fading  fire  decays.  But  fieep  did  not  reft  on  the  king: 
he  rofe  in  the  midft  of  his  arms,  and  llowly  afcended  the 
hill  to  behold  ihe  flame  of  Sarno's  tov/ey. 

The  flame  was  dim  and  diftant ;  the  moon  hid  her  red 
face  in  the  eaft.  A  blaft  came  from  the  mountain  ;  on  its 
wings  was  the  fpirit  of  Loda.  He  came  to  his  place  in  his 
terrors  f,  and  fliook  his  dufl^y  fpear.  His  eyes  appear  like 
flames  in  his  dark  face ;  his  voice  is  like  difl:ant  thunder. 
Fingal  advanced  his  fpear  in  night,  and  raifed  his  voic*^ 
on  high. 

Son  of  night,  retire:  call  thy  winds  and  fly!  Why  doft 
thou  come  to  my  prefence,  with  thy  fliadowy  arms  ?  Do  I 
fear  thy  gloomy  form,  fpirit  of  difmal  Loda  ?  Weak  is  thy 
fliield  of  clouds :  feeble  is  that  meteor,  thy  fword.  The 
blaft  rolls  them  together  ;  and  thou  thyfelf  art  loft.  Fly 
from  my  prefence,  fon  of  night !  call  thy  winds  and  fly  ! 

Dost  thou  force  me  frorn  my  place,  replied  the  hollow 
voice  ?  The  people  bend  before  me.  I  turn  the  battle  in 
the  field  of  the  brave.  I  look  on  the  nations  and  they  va- 
nifli:  my  noftrils  pour  the  blaft  of  death.  I  come  abroad 
on  the  winds :  the  tempefts  are  before  my  face.  But  my 
dwelling  is  calm,  above  the  clouds ;  the  fields  of  my  reft 
are  pleafant. 

Dwell  in  thy  pleafant  fields,  faid  the  king:  Let  Com- 
hal's  fon  be  forgot.    Do  my  fteps  afcend,  from  my  hills, 

F  into 

*  The  circle  of  Loda  is  fuppofed  to  be  a  place  of  worfhip  among  the  Scandinavi- 
ans, as  the  fpirit  of  Loda  is  thought  to  be  the  fame  with  their  god  Odin. 

+  He  is  defcribsd,  in  a  fmiile,  in  the  poem  concerning  the  death  of  Cuchullin, 


42  C  A  R  R  I  C  -  T  H  U  R  A  : 

into  thy  peaceful  plains  ?  Do  I  meet  thee,  with  a  fpear^ 
on  thy  cloud,  fpirit  of  difmal  Loda  ?  Why  then  dofl  thou 
frown  on  me  ?  why  fliake  thine  airy  fpear  ?  Thou  frown- 
eft  in  vain :  I  never  fled  from  the  mighty  in  war.  And 
Ihali  the  fons  of  the  wind  frighten  the  king  of  Morven  ? 
No  :  he  knows  the  weaknefs  of  their  arms  ! 

Fly  to  thy  land,  replied  the  form:  receive  the  wind  and 
fly  !  The  blafts  are  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand:  the  courfe 
of  the  ftorm  is  mine.  The  king  of  Sora  is  my  fon,  he 
bends  at  the  ftone  of  my  power.  His  battle  is  around 
Carric-thura ;  and  he  will  prevail !  Fly  to  thy  land,  fon 
of  Comhal,  or  feel  my  flaming  wrath  ! 

He  lifted  high  his  fliadov/y  fpear!  He  bent  forward  his 
dreadful  height.  Fingal,  advancing,  drew  his  fword;  the 
blade  of  dark-brown  Luno  *.  The  gleaming  path  of  the 
fleel  winds  thro'  the  gloomy  ghoft.  The  form  fell  fliape- 
lefs  into  air,  like  a  column  of  fmoke,  which  the  ftaff'of  the 
boy  difturbs,  as  it  rifes  from  the  half-extinguiflied  furnace^ 

The  fpirit  of  Loda  flirieked,  as,  rolled  into  himfelf,  he 
rofe  on  the  wind.  Iniftore  fhook  at  the  found.  The  waves 
heard  it  on  the  deep.  They  ftopped,  in  their  courfe,  with 
fear :  the  friends  of  Fingal  ftarted,  at  once ;  and  took  their 
heavy  fpears.  They  miffed  the  king  :  they  rofe  in  rage  ;. 
all  their  arms  refound ! 

The  moon  came  forth  in  the  eaft.  Fingal  returned  in 
the  gleam  of  his  arms.  The  joy  of  his  youth  was  great ; 
their  fouls  fettled,  as  a  fea  from  a  ftorm.  Ullin  raifed  the 
fong  of  gladnefs.  The  hills  of  Iniftore  rejoiced.  The  flame 
of  the  oak  arofe  ;  and  the  tales  of  heroes  are  told. 

But  Frothal,  Sora's  wrathful  king,  fits  in  fadnefs  be- 
neath a  tree.  The  hoft  fpreads  around  Carric-thura.  He 
looks  towards  the  walls  with  rage.  He  longs  for  the  blood 
of  Cathuila,  who,  once,  overcame  him  in  war.  When 
Annir  reigned  f  in  Sora,  the  father  of  fea -borne  Frothal, 
a  ftorm  arofe  on  the  fea,  and  carried  Frothal  to  Iniftore. 
Three  days  he  feafted  in  Sarno*s  halls,  and  faw  the  flow- 
rolling  eyes  of  Comala.     He  loved  her,  in  the  flame  of 

youth, 

*  The  famous  fword  of  Fingal,  made  by  Lun,  or  Luno,  a  fmith  of  Lochlin. 

t  Annir  was  alfo  the  father  of  Erragon,  who  was  king  after  the  death  of  his 
brother  Frothal.  The  dcaih  of  Erragon  is  the  fubjccl  cf  the  battle  of  Lora,  a  poem 
in  this  colkftion. 


A     P  O  E  M.  43 

youth,  and  rufned  to  feize  the  white-armed  maid.  Cathulla 
met  the  chief.  The  gloomy  battle  rofe.  Frothal  was  bound 
in  the  hall  ;  three  days  he  pined  alone.  On  the  fourth, 
Sarno  fent  him  to  his  lliip,  and  he  returned  to  his  land. 
But  wrath  darkened  in  his  foul  againft  the  noble  Cathulla. 
When  Annir's  Hone  *  of  fame  arofe,  Frothal  came  in  his 
flrength.  The  battle  burned  round  Carric-thura,  and 
Sarno's  moify  walls. 

Morning  rofe  on  Iniftore.  Frothal  ftruck  his  dark- 
brown  fhield.  His  chiefs  darted  at  the  found  ;  they  flood, 
but  their  eyes  were  turned  to  the  fea.  They  faw  Fingal 
coming  in  his  flrength  ;  and  firft  the  noble  Thubar  fpoke. 
"  Who  comes  like  the  ftag  of  the  defart,  with  all  his  herd 
behind  him  ?  Frothal,  it  is  a  foe !  I  fee  his  forward  fpear. 
Perhaps  it  is  the  king  of  Morven,  Fingal  the  firfl  of  men. 
His  deeds  are  well  known  in  Lochlin ;  the  blood  of  his  foes 
is  in  Starno's  halls.  Shall  I  afk  the  peace  |  of  kings?  His 
fword  is  the  bolt  of  heaven  !'* 

Son  of  the  feeble  hand,  faid  Frothal,  (hall  my  days  be- 
gin in  a  cloud  ?  Sfeall  I  yield  before  I  have  conquered, 
chief  of  dreamy  Tora  ?  The  people  v/ould  fay  in  Sora, 
Frothal  flew  forth  like  a  meteor  ;  but  a  darknefs  has  met 
him,  and  his  fame  is  no  more.  No,  Thubar  ;  I  will  never 
yield  ;  my  fame  fhall  furround  me  like  light.  No  :  I  will 
never  yield,  chief  of  dreamy  Tora  ! 

He  went  forth  with  the  dream  of  his  people,  but  they 
met  a  rock :  Fingal  dood  unmoved  :  broken,  they  rolled 
back  from  his  fide.  Nor  did  they  fafely  fly ;  the  fpear  of 
the  king  purfued  their  deps.  The  field  is  covered  with 
heroes.    A  rifmg  hill  preferved  the  foe. 

Frothal  faw  their  flight.  The  rage  of  his  bofom  rofe. 
He  bent  his  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  called  the  noble  Thu- 
bar. "  Thubar  !  my  people  are  fled.  My  flame  has  ceafed 
to  arife.  I  will  fight  the  king  -,  I  feel  my  burning  foul  ! 
Send  a  bard  to  demand  the  combat.  Speak  not  againft 
Frothal's  w^ords ! — But,  Thubar!  I  love  a  maid;  fhe  dwells 
by  Thano's  dream,  the  white-bofomed  daughter  of  Her- 
man, 

*  That  IS,  after  the  death  of  Annir.     To  ere£l  the  ftone  of  one's  fame,  was,  in 
other  words,  to  fay  that  the  perfon  was  dead, 
+  Honourable  terms  of  peace. 


44  C  ARRIC-THUR  A: 

man,  Utha  with  foft-roUing  eyes.  She  feared  the  low-laid 
Comala  ;  her  fecret  fighs  rofe,  when  I  fpread  the  fail.  Tell 
to  Utha  of  harps,  that  my  foul  delighted  in  her  !'* 

Such  were  his  words,  refolved  to  fight.  The  foft  figh 
of  Utha  was  near  !  She  had  followed  her  hero,  in  the  ar- 
ruour  of  a  man.  She  rolled  her  eye  on  the  youth,  in  fe- 
cret. from  beneath  her  ileel.  She  faw  the  bard  as  he  went ; 
the  foear  fell  thrice  from  her  hand  !  Her  loofe  hair  flew  on 
the  wind.  Her  white  bread  rofe,  with  fighs.  She  raifed 
her  eyes  to  the  king.    She  would  fpeak,but  thrice  fhe  failed. 

FiNGAL  heard  the  words  of  the  bard  ;  he  came  in  the 
fcrength  of  his  fteel.  They  mixed  their  dreadful  fpears  : 
they  raifed  the  gleam  of  their  arms.  But  the  fword  of  Fin- 
gal  defcended  and  cut  Frothal's  fhield  in  tv/ain.  His  fair 
fide  is  expofed  ;  half-bent,  he  forefees  his  death.  Darknefs 
gathered  on  Utha's  foul.  The  tear  rolled  down  her  cheek. 
She  ruflied  to  cover  the  chief  with  her  fliield  ;  but  a  fallen, 
oak  met  her  Heps.  She  fell  on  her  arm  of  fnow  ;  her 
fhield,  her  helmet  flew  wide.  Her  white  bofom  heaved  to 
the  fight :  her  dark-brown  hair  is  fpread  on  earth. 

FiNGAL  pitied  the  white-armed  maid  !  he  fl:ayed  the 
uplifted  fword.  The  tear  was  in  the  eye  of  the  king,  as, 
bending  forward*  he  fpoke — "  King  of  ftreamy  Sora  !  fear 
not  the  fword  of  Fingal.  It  was  never  Itained  with  the 
blood  of  the  vanquiflied  ;  it  never  pierced  a  fallen  foe. 
Let  thy  people  rejoice  by  thy  native  flireams.  Let  the 
maids  of  thy  love  be  glad.  Why  fhouldeft  thou  fall  in  thy 
Youth,  king  of  ftreamy  Sora?"  Frothal  heard  the  words 
of  Fingal,  and  faw  the  rifing  maid  ;  they  *  ftood  in  filence, 
in  their  beauty  ;  like  two  young  trees  of  the  plain,  when 
the  iliower  of  fpring  is  on  their  leaves,  and  the  loud  winds 
are  laid. 

Daughter  of  Herman,  faid  Frothal,  didfl:  thou  come 
from  Tora's  ftreams-— didfl:  thou  come,  in  thy  beauty,  to 
behold  thy  warrior  low  ?  But  he  was  low  before  the  migh- 
ty, r.iaid  of  the  fiovv'^-rolling  eye  !  The  feeble  did  not  over- 
come the  fon  of  car-borne  Annir  ?  Terrible  art  thou,  O 
kin  ;  of  Morven  !  in  battles  of  the  fpear  :  but,  in  peace, 
thou  art  iil^e  the  fun,  when  he  looks  thro'  a  filent  ihoy/er  : 

the 

*  Fioikal  and  Utha. 


A    POEM.  45 

the  Howers  lift  their  fair  heads  before  him  ;  the  gales  {hake 
their  ruftiing  wings.     O  that  thou  wert  in  Sora  !  that  my ' 
feafl  were  fpread  !  The  future  kings  of  Sora  would  fee  thy 
arms  and  rejoice — They  would  rejoice  at  the  fame  of  their 
fathers,  who  beheld  the  mighty  Fingal  ! 

"  Son  of  Annir,"  replied  the  king,  "  the  fame  of  Sora's 
race  fhall  be  heard  !  When  chiefs  are  ftrong  in  war,  then 
does  the  fong  arife.  But  if  their  fwords  are  flretched  over 
the  feeble:  if  the  blood  of  the  weak  has  ftained  their  arms ; 
the  bard  fhall  forget  them  in  the  fong,  and  their  tombs 
fhall  not  be  known.  The  Itranger  fliall  come  and  build 
there,  and  remove  the  heaped-up  earth.  An  half-worn 
fword  fhall  rife  before  him  ;  bending  above  it,  he  will  fay, 
"  Thefe  are  the  arms  of  the  chiefs  of  old,  but  their  names 
are  not  in  fong."  Come  thou,  O  Frothal,  to  the  feafl  of 
Iniflore  ;  let  the  maid  of  thy  love  be  there ;  let  our  faces 
brighten  with  joy !" 

Fingal  took  his  fpear,  moving  in  the  fteps  of  his  might. 

The  gates  of  Carric-thura  are  opened  wide.    The  feafl  of 

fhells  is  fpread.    The  foft  found  of  mufic  arofe.     Gladnefs 

brightened  in  the  hall.    The  voice  of  Uilin  was  heard  ; 

the  harp  of  Selma  was  flrung.    Utha  rejoiced  in  his  pre- 

fence,  and  demanded  the  fong  of  grief  ;  the  big  tear  hung 

in  her  eye,  when  the  foft  *  Crimora  fpoke.      Crimora 

the  daughter  of  Rinval,  who  dwelt  at  Lotha's  -j-  roaring 

flream !    The  tale  was  long,  but  lovely  ;  and  pleafed  the 

blufhing  Utha.  ^  ^ 

°  Lrimora^. 

Who  Cometh  from  the  hill,  like  a  cloud  tinged  with 
the  beam  of  the  wefl  ?  Whofe  voice  is  that,  loud  as  the 
wind,  but  pleafant  as  the  harp  of  Carril  ||  ?  It  is  my  love 
in  the  light  of  fteel ;  but  fad  is  his  darkened  brow !  Live 

the 

*  There  is  a  propriety  in  introducing  this  epifodc,  as  the  fituations  of  Crimora 
and  Utha  were  (o  fimilar. 

f  Lotha  was  the  ancient  name  of  one  of  the  great  rivers  in  the  norih  of  Scotland. 
The  only  one  of  them  that  ftill  retains  a  name  of  a  like  found  is  Lochy,  in  Inver- 
nefsfliire  ;  but  whether  it  is  the  river  mentioned  here,  the  tranflator  will  not  pre- 
tend to  fay. 

§  Cn-mora,  a  woman  of  a  great  foul. 

jl  Perhaps  the  Carril  mentioned  here  is  the  fame  with  Carril  the  fon  of  Kinfe- 
na,  Cuchullin's  bard.  The  name  ilfelf  is  proper  to  any  bard,  as  it  fignifies  a 
Jpnghtly  and  harmonious  fcmd. 


46  C  ARRIC-THURA: 

the  mighty  race  of  Fingal  ?  or  what  darkens  in  Connal's 

^°^^*-  CONNAL. 

They  live.  They  return  from  the  chace,  like  a  ftream 
of  light.  The  fun  is  on  their  fhields.  Like  a  ridge  of  fire 
they  defcend  the  hill.  Loud  is  the  voice  of  the  youth  ! 
The  war,  my  love,  is  near  !  To-morrow  the  dreadful  Dar- 
go  comes  to  try  the  force  of  our  race.  The  race  of  Fingal 
he  defies ;  the  race  of  battle  and  wounds  ! 

Crimora. 

CoNNAL,  I  faw  his  fails  like  grey  mifl  on  the  dark- 
brown  wave.  They  flowly  came  to  land.  Connal,  many 
are  the  v/arriors  of  Dargo ! 

CoNNAL. 

Bring  me  thy  father's  fhield  ;  the  boffy,  iron  fhieldof 
Rinval  ;  that  fhield  like  the  full-orbed  moon,  when  fhe 
moves  darkened  through  heaven. 

Crimora. 

That  fhield  I  bring,  O  Connal ;  but  it  did  not  defend 

my  father.    By  the  fpear  of  Gormar  he  fell.    Thou  may'ft 

fail,  O  Connal  !  ^ 

'  Connal. 

Fall  I  may!  But  raife  my  tomb, Crimora !  Grey  flones, 
a  mound  of  earth,  fhall  fend  my  name  to  other  times. — 
Bend  thy  red  eye  over  my  grave,  beat  thy  mournful  heav- 
ing bread.  Though  fair  thou  art,  my  love,  as  the  light  ; 
more  pleafant  than  the  gale  of  the  hill;  yet  I  will  not  here 
remain.     Raife  my  tomb,  Crimora  ! 

Crimora. 

Then  give  me  thofe  arms  that  gleam ;  that  fword,  and 
that  fpear  of  fteel.  I  fhall  meet  Dargo  with  Connal,  and 
aid  him  in  the  fight.  Farewel,  ye  rocks  of  Ardven  !  ye 
deer !  and  ye  ftreams  of  the  hill  !  We  fliall  return  no 
more.     Our  tombs  are  diftant  far  ! 

"  And  did  they  return  no  more,'*  faid  Utha's  burfting 
figh.     "  Fell  the  mighty  in  battle,  and  did  Crimora  live  ? 

Her 

*  Connal  the  fon  of  Diaran,  was  one  of  the  moft  famous  heroes  of  Fingal  ;  he 
•was  fiain  in  a  battle  aqainft  Dargo  a  Briton;  hut  whether  by  the  hand  of  the  enemy, 
or  that  of  his  miftref:;,  tradition  docs  not  determine. 


A    P  O  E  M.  4- 

Her  fleps  were  lonely  ;  her  foul  was  fad  for  Connal, 
Was  he  not  young  and  lovely  ;  like  the  beam  of  the  fet- 
ting  fun  ?"  Ullin  law  the  virgin's  tear  ;  he  took  the  foftly- 
trembling  harp  :  the  fong  was  lovely,  but  fad,  and  filence 
was  in  Carric-thura. 

Autumn  is  dark  on  the  mountains;  grey  mill  refts  on 
the  hills.  The  whirlwind  is  heard  on  the  heath.  Dark 
rolls  the  river  through  the  narrow  plain.  A  tree  ftands 
alone  on  the  hill,  and  marks  the  llumbering  Connal.  The 
leaves  whirl  round  with  the  wind,  and  drew  the  grave  of 
the  dead.  At  times  are  feen  here  the  ghofls  of  the  depart- 
ed, when  the  mufmg  hunter  alone  ftalks  flowly  over  the 
heath. 

Who  can  reach  the  fource  of  thy  race,  O  Connal  ?  who 
recount  thy  fathers  ?  Thy  family  grew  like  an  oak  on  the 
mountain,  which  meeteth  the  wind  with  its  lofty  head. 
But  now  it  is  torn  from  the  earth.  Who  fhall  fupply  the 
place  of  Connal  ?  Here  was  the  din  of  arms ;  here  the 
groans  of  the  dying.  Bloody  are  the  wars  of  Fingal !  O 
Connal !  it  was  here  thou  didft  fall.  Thine  arm  was  like 
a  ftorm ;  thy  fword  a  beam  of  the  Iky ;  thy  height  a  rock 
on  the  plain  ;  thine  eyes,  a  furnace  of  fire.  Louder  than 
a  llorm  was  thy  voice,  in  the  battles  of  thy  fteel.  War- 
riors fell  by  thy  fword,  as  the  thiflle  by  the  ftaifof  a  boy. 
Dargo  the  mighty  came  on,  darkening  in  his  rage.  His 
brows  were  gathered  into  wrath.  His  eyes  like  two  caves 
in  a  rock.  Bright  rofe  their  fwords  on  each  fide ;  loud 
was  the  clang  of  their  fteel. 

The  daughter  of  Rinval  was  near  ;  Crimora  bright  in 
the  armour  of  man  ;  her  yellow  hair  is  loofe  behind,  her 
bow  is  in  her  hand.  She  followed  the  youth  to  the  war, 
Connal  her  much-beloved.  She  drew  the  firing  on  Dar- 
go ;  but,  erring,  flie  pierced  her  Connal.  He  falls,  like 
an  oak  on  the  plain  ;  like  a  rock  from  the  iliaggy  hill. 
What  Ihall  llie  do,  haplefs  maid  t  He  bleeds,  her  ConnaF 
dies  !  All  the  night  long  fhe  cries,  and  all  the  day,  "  O 
Connal,  my  love,  and  my  friend  !'*  With  grief  the  fad 
mourner  dies  !  Earth  here  inclofes  the  lovelieft  pair  on  the 
hill.  The  grafs  grows  between  the  flones  of  the  toiiib  ; 
I  often  fit  in  the  mournful  fliade.    The  wind  fighs  through 

the 


48  C  ARRIC-THURA. 

the  grafs ;  their  memory  ruflies  on  my  mind.  Undiflurb- 
ed  you  now  fleep  together  ;  in  the  tomb  of  the  momitain 
you  reft  alone ! 

"  And  foft  be  their  reft,'*  faid  Utha,  "  haplefs  children 
offtreamy  Lotha  !  I  will  remember  them  with  tears,  and 
my  fecret  fong  ftiall  rife  ;  when  the  wind  is  in  the  groves 
of  Tora,  when  the  ftream  is  roaring  near.  Then  fliall 
they  come  on  my  foul,  with  all  their  lovely  grief !" 

Three  days  feafted  the  kings  :  on  the  fourth  their 
white  fails  arofe.  The  winds  of  the  north  drove  Fingal 
to  Morven's  woody  land.  But  the  fpirit  of  Loda  fat,  in 
his  cloud,  behind  the  ftiips  of  Frothal.  •  He  hung  forward 
with  all  his  blafts,  and  fpread  the  white-bofomed  fails. 
The  wounds  of  his  form  were  not  forgot  j  he  ftill  fear- 
ed *  the  hand  of  the  king  ! 

*  The  flory  of  Fingal  and  the  fpirit  of  Loda,  fuppofed  to  be  the  famous  Odin, 
Js  the  moft  extravagant  fiftion  in  all  OITian's  poems.  It  is  not,  however,  without 
precedents  in  the  beft  poets ;  and  it  muft  be  faid  for  Oflian,  that  he  fays  nothing 
but  what  perfeftly  agreed  with  the  notions  of  the  times,  concerning  ghods.  They 
thought  the  fouls  of  the  dead  were  material,  and  confequently  fufceptible  of  pain. 
Whether  a  proof  could  be  drawn  from  this  pafTage,  that  OfTian  had  no  notion  of 
a  divinity,  I  fliall  leave  to  others  to  determine  :  it  appears,  however,  that  he  was 
of  opinion,  that  fuperior  beings  ought  to  take  no  notice  of  what  paffed  among  men. 


CARTHON: 


C     A     R     T     H     O     N 


A 


P  O  E  M, 


C^ 


ARGUMENT. 

THIS  poem  is  compleat,  and  the  fubjeftof  it,  as  of  inoft  of  Oflian's  compofition?, 
tragical.  In  the  time  or  Comhal  the  fon  of  Trathal,  and  father  of  the  celebrated 
Fingal,  Clefsammor  the  fon  of  Thaddu  and  brother  of  Morna,  Fingal's  mother, 
was  driven  by  a  florm  into  the  river  Clyde,  on  the  banks  of  which  flood  Balclu- 
tha,  a  town  belonging  to  the  Britons  between  the  walls.  He  was  hofpitably  re- 
ceived by  Rcuthdmir,  the  principal  man  in  the  place,  who  gave  him  Moina  his 
only  daughter  in  marriage.  Reuda,  the  fon  of  Cormo,  a  Briton  who  was  m 
love  with  Moina,  came  to  Reuthamir's  houfe,  and  behaved  haughtily  towards 
Clefsammor.  A  quarrel  enfued,  in  which  Reuda  was  killed ;  the  Britons,  who 
attended  him,  prcnbd  fo  hard  on  Clefsammor,  that  he  was  obliged  to  throw  him- 
felf  into  the  Clvde,  and  fwim  to  his  fliip.  He  hoilled  fail,  and  the  wind  being 
favourable,  bore  him  out  to  fca.  He  often  endeavoured  to  return,  and  cany  ofl 
his  beloved  Moina  by  night ;  but  the  wind  continuing  contrary,  be  was  forced 
to  defiO. 

Moina,  who  had  been  left  with  child  by  her  hufband,  brought  foTth  a  fon, 
and  died  foon  after. — Reuthaniir  named  the  child  Carthon,  ?'.  e,  the  imirmur  of 
loaves,  from  the  florm  which  carried  off  Cleuammor  his  father,  who  was  fuppo- 
fed  to  have  been  caft  away.  When  Carthon  was  three  years  old,  Comhal  the 
father  of  Fingal,  in  one  of  his  expeditions  againft  the  Britons,  took  and  burnt 
-  Balclutha.  Reuthamir  was  killed  in  the  attack :  and  Carthon  was  carried  fafe 
away  by  his  nurfe,  who  fled  farther  into  the  country  of  the  Britons.  Carthon, 
coming  to  man's  eflate,  was  refolved  to  revenge  the  fall  of  Balclutha  on  Com- 
hal's  pofterity.  He  let  fail,  from  the  Clyde,  and,  falling  on  the  coaft  of  Mor- 
ven,  defeated  two  of  Fingal's  heroes,  who  came  to  oppofe  his  progrefs.  He 
was,  at  laft,  unwittingly  killed  by  his  father  Clefsammor,  in  a  (ingle  combat. 
This  (lory  is  the  foundation  of  the  prefcnt  poem,  which  opens  on  the  night  pre- 
ceding the  death  of  Carthon,  fo  that  what  paffed  before  is  introduced  by  way  o'' 
epifode.     The  poem  is  addrelTcd  to  Malvina  the  daughter  of  Tofcar. 


C     A     R     T     H      O      N  : 


P  O  E  M. 

A  TALE  of  the  times  of  old!  the  deeds  of  days  of 
other  years ! 

The  murmur  of  thy  dreams,  O  Lora,  brings  back  the 
memiory  of  the  paft.  The  found  of  thy  woods,  Garmal- 
lar,  is  lovely  in  my  ear.  Dofl  thou  not  behold,  Maivina, 
a  rock  with  its  head  of  heath  ?  Three  aged  pines  bend 
from  its  face  ;  green  is  the  narrow  plain  at  its  feet ;  there 
the  flower  of  the  mountain  grows,  and  iliakes  its  white 
head  in  the  breeze.  The  thiflle  is  there  alone,  (hedding  its 
aged  beard.  Two  ftones,  half-funk  in  the  ground,  fliew 
their  heads  of  mofs.  The  deer  of  the  mountain  avoids 
the  place,  for  he  beholds  a  dim  ghofl  {landing  there  *. 
The  mighty  lie,  O  Malvina,  in  the  narrow  plain  of  the  rock. 

A  TALE  of  the  times  of  old!  the  deeds  of  days  of 
other  years. 

Who  comes  from  the  land  of  flrangers,  with  his  thou- 
fands  around  him  ?  The  fun-beam  pours  its  bright  ft  ream 
before  him ;  his  hair  meets  the  wind  on  his  hills  ;  his 
face  is  fettled  from  war.  Ke  is  calm  as  the  evening  beam 
that  looks,  from  the  cloud  of  the  weft,  on  Cona's  filent 
vale.  Who  is  it  but  Comhal's  fon  -j-,  the  king  of  mighty 
deeds  !  He  beholds  his  hills  with  joy,  he  bids  a  thoufand 
voices  rife.  "  Ye  have  fled  over  your  fiel(^s,  ye  fons  of  the 
diftant  land !  The  king  of  the  world  fits  in  his  hall,  and 
hears  of  his  people's  flight.  He  lifts  his  red  eye  of  pride; 
he  takes  his  father's  fword.  Ye  have  fled  over  your  fields, 
fons  of  the  diflant  land  1" 

Such  were  the  words  of  the  bards,  when  they  came  to 

Selma's 

*  !t  was  the  opinion  of  the  times,  that  deer  faw  the  ghoRs  of  the  dead.  To 
this  day,  when  beads  fuddenly  fiart  without  any  apparent^caufc,  the  vulgar  think 
that  they  fee  the  fpirits  ot  the  deceafed. 

t  Fingal  returns  here,  from  an  expedition  ag;ainfl  the  Romans,  which  was  cele- 
brated by  Offian  in  a  poem  cdWcdt  tkc  Jlvifc  of  Crona, 


52  CARTHON: 

Selma's  halls.  A  thoufand  lights  *  from  the  ftranger*s 
land  rofe,  in  the  midft  of  the  people.  The  feaft  is  fpread 
around  ;  the  night  paffed  away  in  joy.  Where  is  the  no- 
ble Clefsammor  f,  faid  the  fair-haired  Fingal  ?  Where  is 
the  brother  of  Morna,  in  the  hour  of  my  joy  ?  Sullen  and 
dark  he  paffes  his  days  in  the  vale  of  echoing  Lora :  but, 
behold,  he  comes  from  the  hill,  like  a  deed  in  his  flrength, 
who  finds  his  companions  in  the  breeze ;  and  toffes  his 
bright  mane  in  the  wind.  Blefl  be  the  foul  of  Clefsammor; 
why  fo  long  from  Selma  ? 

"  Returns  the  chief,  faid  Clefsammor,  in  the  midft  of 
his  fame  ?  Such  was  the  renown  of  Comhal  in  the  battles 
of  his  youth.  Often  did  we  pafs  over  Carun  to  the  land 
of  the  ftrangers:  our  fwords  returned,  not  unftained  with 
blood  ;  nor  did  the  kings  of  the  world  rejoice.  Why  do 
I  remember  the  times  of  our  war?  My  hair  is  mixed  with 
grey.  My  hand  forgets  to  bend  the  bow :  I  lift  a  lighter 
fpear.  O  that  my  joy  would  return,  as  when  I  firfl  beheld 
the  maid ;  the  white-bofpmed  daughter  of  flrangers, 
Moina  1|,  with  the  dark-blue  eyes !" 

Tell,  faid  the  mjghty  Fingal,  the  tale  of  thy  youthful 
days.  Sorrow,  like  a  cloud  on  the  fun,  (hades  the  foul  of 
ClefTammor,  Mournful  are  thy  thoughts,  alone,  on  the 
banks  of  the  roaring  Lora.  Let  us  hear  the  forrow  of  thy 
youth,  and  the  darknefs  of  thy  days  ! 

"  It  was  in  the  days  of  peace,"  replied  the  great  Clefs- 
ammor, "  I  came,  in  my  bounding  iliip,  to  Balclutha's  § 
walls  of  towers.  The  winds  iiad  roared  behind  my  fails, 
and  Clutha's^  ftreams  received  my  dark-bofomed  Ihip. 
Three  days  I  remained  in  Reuthamir's  halls,  and  faw  his 
daughter,  that  beam  of  light.  The  joy  of  the  fhell  went 
round,  and  the  aged  hero  gave  the  fair.    Her  breads  were 

like 

*  Probably  wax-lights ;  which  are  often  mentioned  as  carried,  among  other 
booty,  fiom  the  Roman  province. 

+  Clf  namh-mor,  mighty  deeds. 

II  Mijln^,  fqft  in  tcml:€r  and pcrfen.  We  find  the  Britifli  names  in  this  poem 
derived  from  the  Galic,  which  is  a  proof  that  the  ancient  language  of  the  whole 
ifiand  was  one  and  the  fame, 

^  Bal'lutha,  i.  e.  the  town  of  Clyde,  probably  the  Alcluth  of  Bede. 

i  Clutha,  or  Cluath,  the  G.ilic  name  of  the  river  Clyde,  the  fignification  of  the 
word  is  Ending,  in  allufion  to  the  winding  courle  of  that  river.  From  Clutha  is 
derived  its  Latin  name,  Glotta, 


A    P  O  E  M.  53 

like  foam  on  the  wave,  and  her  eyes  like  flars  of  light : 
her  hair  was  dark  as  the  raven's  wing:  her  foul  was  gene- 
rous and  mild.  My  love  for  Moina  was  great :  my  heart 
poured  forth  in  joy. 

"  The  fon  of  a  ftranger  came  ;  a  chief  who  loved  the 
white-bofomed  Moina.  His  words  were  mighty  in  the 
hall;  he  often  half-uniheathed  his  fword.  Where,  faid  he, 
is  the  mighty  Comhal,  the  reftlefs  wanderer  *  of  the  heath? 
Comes  he,  with  his  hoft,  to  Balclutha,  fmce  Clefsammor 
is  fo  bold  ?  My  foul,  I  replied,  O  warrior !  burns  in  a 
light  of  its  own.  I  Hand  without  fear  in  the  midft  of 
thoufands,  though  the  valiant  are  diftant  far.  Stranger ! 
thy  words  are  mighty,  for  Clefsammor  is  alone.  But  my 
fword  trembles  by  my  fide,  and  longs  to  glitter  in  my 
hand.  Speak  no  more  of  Comhal,  fon  of  the  winding 
Clutha ! 

"  The  flrength  of  his  pride  arofe.  We  fought;  he  fell 
beneath  my  fword.  The  banks  of  Clutha  heard  his  fall ; 
a  thoufand  fpears  glittered  around.  I  fought :  the  ftran- 
gers  prevailed:  I  plunged  into  the  ftream  of  Clutha.  My 
white  fails  rofe  over  the  waves,  and  I  bounded  on  the  dark- 
blue  fea.  Moina  came  to  the  fliore,  and  rolled  the  red  eye 
of  her  tears :  her  loofe  hair  flew  on  the  wind  ;  and  I  heard 
her  mournful,  diftant  cries.  Often  did  I  turn  my  iliip!  but 
the  winds  of  the  eaft  prevailed.  Nor  Clutha  ever  fmce 
have  I  feen,  nor  Moina  of  the  dark-brown  hair.  She  fell 
in  Balclutha,  for  I  have  feen  her  ghoft.  I  knew  her  as  fhe 
came  through  the  dufky  night,  along  the  murmur  of  Lora. 
She  was  like  the  new  moon,  feen  through  the  gathered 
mill ;  when  the  Iky  pours  down  its  flaky  fnov/,  and  the 
world  is  filent  and  dark." 

Rais£|,  ye  bards,  faid  the  mighty  Fingal,  the  praife  of 

unhappy 

■^  The  word  in  the  original  here  rendered  reJHcfs  wanderer  is  Scuta,  which  is 
the  true  origin  of  the  Scoti  oiiht  Romans:  an  opprobrious  name  impofed  by  the 
Britons,  on  the  (Caledonians,  on  account  of  the  continual  incurfions  into  their 
country. 

+  The  title  of  this  poem,  in  the  original,  k  Duan  na  nlaoi,  i.  e.  The  Poem  of 
the  Hymns:  probably  on  account  of  its  many  digreflions  from  the  fubjeft,  all  which 
are  in  a  lyiic  meafure,  as  this  fong  of  Fingai.  Fingal  is  ctlebrated  by  the  Irifli 
hiftorians  for  his  wifdom  in  making  laws,  his  poetical  genius,  and  his  foreknow- 
ledge of  events.  O'f  laherty  goes  fo  fai  as  to  fay,  that  Fingal's  laws  were  extant  i» 
i^is  own  time. 


54 


C   A   R   T    H    O   N: 


unhappy  Moina.  Call  her  ghoft,  with  ^^our  fongs,  to  out 
hills  ;  that  llie  may  reft  with  the  fair  of  Morven,  the  fun- 
beams  of  other  days,  the  delight  of  heroes  of  old.  I  have 
feen  the  walls  of  Balclutha,  but  they  were  defolate.  The 
fire  had  refounded  in  the  halls  :  and  the  voice  of  the  peo- 
ple is  heard  no  more.  The  ftream  of  Clutha  was  removed 
from  its  place,  by  the  fall  of  the  walls.  The  thiftle  fhook, 
there,  its  lonely  head  :  the  mofs  whiftled  to  the  wind  : 
the  fox  looked  out,  from  the  windows  ;  the  rank  grafs  of 
the  wall  waved  round  its  head.  Defolate  is  the  dwelling 
of  Moina  ;  filence  is  in  the  houfe  of  her  fathers.  Raife 
the  fong  of  mourning,  O  bards,  over  the  land  of  ftrangerso 
They  have  but  fallen  before  us  ;  for,  one  day,  we  muft  fall. 
"Why  doft  thou  build  the  hall,  fon  of  the  winged  days  ? 
Thou  lookeft  from  thy  tov/ers  to-day ;  yet  a  few  years, 
and  the  blaft  of  the  defart  comes  ;  it  howls  in  thy  empty 
court,  and  whiftles  round  thy  half-worn  fliield.  And  let  the 
blaft  of  the  defart  come  !  we  ftiall  be  renowned  in  our  day ! 
The  mark  of  my  arm  fhall  be  in  battle  ;  my  name  in  the 
fong  of  bards.  Raife  the  fong  ;  fend  round  the  fliell :  let 
joy  be  heard  in  my  hall.  When  thou,  fun  of  heaven, 
fhalt  fail  ! — if  thou  llialt  fail,  thou  mighty  light !  if  thy 
brightnefs  is  for  a  feafon,  like  Fingal; — our  fame  fliallfur- 
vive  thy  beams  ! 

Such  was  the  fong  of  Fingal,  in  the  day  of  his  joy. 
His  thoufand  bards  leaned  forward  from  their  feats,  to 
hear  the  voice  of  the  king.  It  v/as  like  the  mufic  of  harps 
on  the  gale  of  the  fpring.  Lovely  were  thy  thoughts,  O 
Fingal  !  v/hy  had  not  OfTian  the  ftrength  of  thy  foul  ? 
But  thou  ftandeft.  alone,  my  father !  Who  can  equal  the 
king  of  Selma  ? 

The  night  palTed  away  in  fong ;  morning  returned  in 
joy.  The  mountains  fhewed  their  grey  heads  ;  the  blue 
face  of  ocean  fmiled.  The  white  wave  is  feen  tumbling 
round  the  diftant  rock  ;  a  mift  rofe,  llowiy,  from  the  lake. 
It  came,  in  the  figure  of  an  aged  man,  along  the  filent 
plain.  Its  large  limbs  did  not  move  in  fteps;  for  a  ghoft 
fupported  it  in  mid  air.  It  came  towards  Selma's  hall, 
and  difi'olved  in  a  fhower  of  blood. 

The  king  alone  beheld  the  fight ;  heforefaw  the  death 

of 


A     P  O  E 


55 


of  the  people.  He  came,  in  filence,  to  his  hall,  and  took 
his  father's  fpear.  The  mail  rattled  on  his  breaft.  The 
heroes  rofe  around.  They  looked  in  filence  on  each  other, 
marking  the  eyes  of  Fingal.  They  faw  battle  in  his  face  ; 
the  death  of  armies  on  his  fpear.  A  thoufand  iliields,  at 
once,  are  placed  on  their  arms  ;  they  drew  a  thoufand 
fwords.  The  hall  of  Selma  brightened  around.  The  clang 
of  arms  afcends.  The  grey  dogs  howl  in  their  place.  No 
word  is  among  the  mighty  chiefs.  Each  marked  the  eyes 
of  the  king,  and  half-alTumed  his  fpear. 

Sons  of  Morven,  begun  the  king,  this  is  no  time  to  fill 
the  fliell.  The  battle  darkens  near  us  ;  death  hovers  over 
the  land.  Some  ghoft,  the  friend  of  Fingal,  has  forewarned 
us  of  the  foe.  The  fons  of  the  ftranger  come  from  the 
darkly-rolling  fea  ;  for,  from  the  water,  came  the  fign  of 
Morven's  gloomy  danger.  Let  each  aii'ume  his  heavy  fpear, 
each  gird  on  hi«  father's  fword.  Let  the  dark  helmet  rife 
on  every  head  ;  the  mail  pour  its  lightening  from  every 
fide.  The  battle  gathers  like  a  ftorm  ;  foon  fhall  ye  hear 
the  roar  of  death. 

The  hero  moved  on  before  his  hofl,  like  a  cloud  before 
a  ridge  of  green  fire ;  when  it  pours  on  the  fky  of  night, 
and  mariners  forefee  a  ftorm.  On  Cona's  rifino;  heath 
they  Kood:  the  white-bofomed  maids  beheld  them  above 
like  a  grove ;  they  forefaw  the  death  of  the  youth,  and 
looked  towards  the  fea  with  fear.  The  white  wave  de- 
ceived them  for  diftant  fails ;  the  tear  is  on  their  cheek ! 
The  fun  rofe  on  the  fea,  and  we  beheld  a  diftant  fleet. 
Like  the  mift  of  ocean  they  came;  and  poured  their  youth 
upon  the  coaft.  The  chief  was  among  them,  like  the  ftag 
in  the  midft  of  the  herd.  His  fhield  is  ftudded  with  gold; 
ftately  ftrode  the  king  of  fpears.  He  moved  towards  Sel- 
ma ;   his  thoufands  moved  behind. 

Go,  with  a  fong  of  peace,  laid  Fingal ;  go,  UUin,  to 
the  king  of  fwords.  Tell  him  that  we  are  mighty  in  war; 
that  the  ghofts  of  our  foes  are  many.  But  renowned  are 
they  who  have  feafted  in  my  halls !  thev  fliew  the  arms  * 

of 

*  It  was  a  cuftom  among  the  ancient  Scots,  to  exchange  arms  with  their  gupfts, 
and  thofe  arms  were  preferved  long  in  the  different  families,  as  monuments  of  ibf 
friendfhip  which  fubfifted  between  their  anceftors. 


56 


C   A   R   T   H   O  N: 


of  my  fathers  in  a  foreign  land:  the  fons  of  the  ftrangers 
wonder,  and  blefs  the  friends  of  Morven's  race ;  for  our 
names  have  been  heard  afar:  the  kings  of  the  world  (liook 
in  the  midft  of  their  hoft. 

Ullin  went  with  his  fong.  Fingal  refted  on  his  fpear: 
he  faw  the  mighty  foe  in  his  armour ;  he  blefl  the  Gran- 
ger's fon.  "  How  (lately  art  thou,  fon  of  the  fea!  faid  the 
king  of  woody  Morven.  Thy  fvvord  is  a  beam  of  fire  by 
thy  fide :  thy  fpear  is  a  pine  that  defies  the  ftorm.  The 
varied  face  of  the  moon  is  not  broader  than  thy  fhield. 
Ruddy  is  thy  face  of  youth  !  foft  the  ringlets  of  thy  hair! 
But  this  tree  may  fall ;  and  his  memory  be  forgot !  The 
daughter  of  the  ftranger  will  be  fad,  looking  to  the  roll- 
ing fea :  the  children  will  fay,  "  We  fee  a  fliip ;  perhaps 
it  is  the  king  of  Balclutha.'*  The  tear  flarts  from  their 
mother's  eye.  Her  thoughts  are  of  him  who  fleeps  in 
Morven !" 

Such  were  the  words  of  the  king,  when  Ullin  came  to 
the  mighty  Carthon :  he  threw  down  his  fpear  before  him ; 
he  raifed  the  fong  of  peace.  "  Come  to  the  feafl  of  Fin- 
gal, Carthon,  from  the  rolling  fea !  partake  of  the  feafl: 
of  the  king,  or  lift  the  fpear  of  war !  The  ghofts  of  our 
foes  are  many :  but  renov/ned  are  the  friends  of  Morven ! 
Behold  that  field,  O  Carthon;  many  a  green  hill  rifes 
there,  with  mofly  ftones  and  ruflling  grafs :  thefe  are  the 
tombs  of  Fingal's  foes,  the  fons  of  the  rolling  fea!" 

"  Dost  thou  fpeak  to  the  weak  in  arms  !'*  faid  Car- 
thon, "  bard  of  the  woody  Morven  ?  Is  my  face  pale  for 
fear,  fon  of  the  peaceful  fong  ?  Why,  then,  dofl  thou 
think  to  darken  my  foul  with  the  tales  of  thofe  who  fell  ? 
My  arm  has  fought  in  battle  ;  my  renown  is  known  afar. 
Go  to  the  feeble  in  arms,  bid  them  yield  to  Fingal.  Have 
not  I  feen  the  fallen  Balclutha?  and  fhali  I  feafl;  with 
Combal's  fon  ?  Comhal !  who  threw  his  fire,  in  the  midfl: 
of  my  father's  hall!  I  was  young,  and  knew  not  the  caufe 
why  the  virgins  wept.  The  columns  of  fmoke  pleafed 
^mine  eye,  v/hen  they  rofe  above  my  walls !  I  often  'ooked 
back,  Yvith  gladnefs,  when  my  friends  fled  along  the  hill. 
But  when  the  years  of  my  youth  came  on,  I  beheld  the 
mofs  of  my  fallen  walls :  my  figh  arofe  with  the  morning, 

and 


A    POEM.  ^q 

and  my  tears  defcended  with  night.  Shall  I  not  fight,  I 
faid  to  my  foul,  againft  the  children  of  my  foes  ?  And  I 
will  fight,  O  bard !  I  feel  the  ftrength  of  my  foul." 

His  people  gathered  around  the  hero,  and  drew,  at 
once,  their  fhining  fwords.  He  Hands,  in  the  midll,  like 
a  pillar  of  fire  ;  the  tear  half-ftarting  from  his  eye  ;  for  he 
thought  of  the  fallen  Balclutha  ;  the  crouded  pride  of  his 
foul  arofe.  Sidelong  he  looked  up  to  the  hill,  where  our 
heroes  fhone  in  arms  ;  the  fpear  trembled  in  his  hand  : 
bending  forward,  he  feemed  to  threaten  the  king. 

Shall  I,  faid  Fingal  to  his  foul,  meet,  at  once,  the 
youth  ?  Shall  I  flop  him,  in  the  midil  of  his  courfe,  be- 
fore his  fame  fliall  arife  ?  But  the  bard,  hereafter,  may  fay, 
when  he  fees  the  tomb  of  Carthon  ;  Fingal  took  his  thou- 
fands  to  battle,  before  the  noble  Carthon  fell.  No  :  bard 
of  the  times  to  come  !  thou  ihalt  not  lelTen  Fingal's  fame. 
My  heroes  will  fight  the  youth,  and  Fingal  behold  the  war. 
If  he  overcomes,  I  rufh,  in  my  ftrength,  like  the  roaring 
ftream  of  Cona.  Who^  of  my  chiefs,  will  meet  the  fon  of 
the  rolling  fea  ?  Many  are  his  warriors  on  the  coaft  j  and 
ftrong  is  his  allien  fpear  ! 

Cathul*  rofe,  in  his  ftrength,  the  fon  of  the  mighty 
Lormar:  three  hundred  youths  attend  the  chief,  the  racef 
of  his  native  ftreams.  Feeble  v/as  his  arm  againft  Car- 
thon :  he  fell  ;  and  his  heroes  fled.  Connal  ||  refumed  the 
battle  ;  but  he  broke  his  heavy  fpear  :  he  lay  bound  on 
the  field  :  Carthon  purfued  his  people. 

Clessammor  i  faid  the  king§  of  Morven,  where  is  the 
fpear  of  thy  ftrength  ?  Wilt  thou  behold  Connal  bound  ; 
thy  friend,  at  the  ftream  of  Lora  ?  Rife,  in  the  light  of 
thy  fteel,  companion  of  valiant  Comhal.  Let  the  youth  of 
Balclutha  feel  the  ftrength  of  Morven's  race.  He  rofe  in 
the  ftrength  of  his  fteel,  fnaking  his  grifly  locks.  He  fit- 
ted the  fliield  to  his  fide  ;  he  rufned,  in  the  pride  of  valour. 

H  Carthon 

*  Cath-'huil,  theeve  efhatfU. 

+  It  appears,  from  t  is  pafTage,  that  clanOilp  was  eflabliiTied,  in  the  days  of  Fin- 
'^^  ;  *i!°^°J^  "Of  ""  the  fame  footing  with  the  prtfcnt  tribes  in  the  north  of  Scotland. 

II  IhisLonnilisverv  muchcclr-brated,  in  ancient  poetry,  for  his  wifdom  and 
valour:  there  ,s  a  fmall  tribe  ftiU  fubfifl.ng,  in  the  North,  who  pretend  they  are 
delcended  from  him.  '  i  7 

§  Fmgal  did  not  then  know  that  Carthon  was  the  fon  of  Clefsammor. 


58  C   A   R   T    H   O  N: 

Carthon  flood,  on  a  rock  :  he  faw  the  hero  ruihlng 
on.  He  loved  the  dreadful  joy  of  his  face  ;  his  ftrength, 
in  the  locks  of  age  !  "  Shall  I  lift  that  fpear,  he  faid, 
that  never  ftrikes,  but  once,  a  foe  ?  or  fhall  I,  with  the 
w^ords  of  peace,  preferve  the  warrior's  life  ?  Stately  are  his 
fteps  of  age  !  lovely  the  remnant  of  his  years  !  Perhaps  it 
is  the  hufband  of  Moina  ;  the  father  of  car-borne  Carthon. 
Often  have  I  heard,  that  he  dwelt  at  the  echoing  flreani 
of  Lora." 

Such  were  his  words,  when  Ciefsammor  came,  and  lift- 
ed high  his  fpear.  The  youth  received  it  on  his  Ihield, 
and  fpoke  the  words  of  peace.  "  Warrior  of  the  aged 
locks  !  Is  there  no  youth  to  lift  the  fpear  ?  Haft  thou  no 
fon,  to  raife  the  ihield  before  his  father,  to  meet  the  arm 
of  youth  ?  Is  the  fpoufe  of  thy  love  no  more  ?  or  weeps 
file  over  the  tombs  of  thy  fons  ?  Art  thou  of  the  kings  of 
men  ?  What  will  be  the  fame  of  my  fword  fhouldft  thou 

fall  r 

It  will  be  great,  thou  fon  of  pride !  begun  the  tall 
Ciefsammor.  I  have  been  renowned  in  battle  ;  but  I  ne- 
ver told  my  name*  to  a  foe.  Yield  to  me,  fon  of  the 
wave  ;  then  flialt  thou  know,  that  the  mark  of  my  fword 
is  in  many  a  field.  "  I  never  yielded,  king  of  fpears!" 
replied  the  noble  pride  of  Carthon  :  "  I  have  alfo  fought 
in  war  ;  I  behold  my  future  fame.  Defpife  me  not,  thou 
chief  of  men  ;  my  arm,  my  fpear  is  ftrong.  Retire  among 
thy  friends,  let  younger  heroes  fight.''  Why  doft  thou 
wound  my  foul,  replied  Ciefsammor  with  a  tear?  Age  does 
not  tremble  on  my  hand  ;  I  Hill  can  lift  the  fword.  Shall 
I  fiy  in  Fingal's  fight ;  in  the  fight  of  him.  I  love  ?  Son  of 
the  fea !  I  never  fied  :  exalt  thy  pointed  fpear. 

They  fought,  like  two  contending  winds,  that  ftrive  to 
roll  the  wave.  Carthon  bade  his  fpear  to  err ;  he  flill 
thought  that  the  foe  was  the  fpoufe  of  Moina.  He  broke 
Clefsammor's  beamy  fpear  in  twain  :  he  feized  his  fliining 
fword.     But,  as  Carthon  was  binding  the  chief,  the  chief 

drew 

*  To  tell  one's  name  to  an  enemy  was  reckoned,  in  t'nofe  days  of  heroifm,  a 
manifeft  cvafion  of  fighting  him  ;  for,  if  it  was  once  known,  that  friendfiiip  fubfifl- 
ed,  of  old,  between  the  anccflois  of  the  combatants,  the  battle  immediately  ccafed; 
and  the  ancient  amity  of  their  forefathers  was  renewed.  A  man  who  tells  his  navw 
to  his  tnany^  was  of  old  an  ignominious  term  for  a  coward. 


A     POEM. 


59 


drew  the  dagger  of  his  fathers.    He  faw  the  foe*s  unco- 
vered fide  ;  and  opened,  there,  a  wound. 

FiNGAL  faw  Clefsammor  low  :  he  moved  in  the  found 
of  his  fteel.  The  hofl  flood  filent,  in  his  prefence ;  they 
turned  their  eyes  to  the  king.  He  came,  like  the  fullen 
noife  of  a  ftorm,  before  the  winds  arife;  the  hunter  hears 
it  in  the  vale,  and  retires  to  the  cave  of  the  rock.  Carthon 
ftood  in  his  place :  the  blood  is  ruihing  down  his  fide  : 
he  faw  the  coming  down  of  the  king  ;  his  hopes  of  fame 
arofe  *  ;  but  pale  was  his  cheek :  his  hair  fiev/  loofe,  his 
helmet  Ihook  on  high  :  the  force  of  Carthon  failed  ;  but 
his  foiil  was  flrong. 

FiMGAL  beheld  the  hero's  blood  ;  he  fiopt  the  uplifted 
fpear.  "  Yield,  king  offwords,"  faid  Comhal's  Ton;  "  I 
behold  thy  blood.  Thou  haft  been  mighty  in  battle ;  and 
thy  fame  ftiall  never  fade."  "  Art  thou  the  king  fo  far 
renowned  ?"  replied  the  car-borne  Carthon.  "  Art  thou 
that  light  of  death,  that  frightens  the  kings  of  the  world  ? 
But  why  fhould  Carthon  afk  ?  for  he  is  like  the  ftream  of 
his  hills  ;  ftrong  as  a  river,  in  his  courfe  ;  fwift  as  the 
eagle  of  heaven.  O  that  I  had  fought  with  the  king,  that 
my  fame  might  be  great  in  fong  !  that  the  hunter,  be- 
holding my  tomb,  might  fay,  He  fought  with  the  mighty 
Fingal.  But  Carthon  dies  unknown  ;  he  has  poured  out 
his  force  on  the  weak." 

^^  But  thou  flialt  not  die  unknown,"  replied  the  king 
of  v/oody  Morven :  "  my  bards  are  many,  O  Carthon  ; 
their  fongs  defcend  to  future  times.  The  children  of  years 
to  come  fhail  hear  the  fame  of  Carthon  ;  when  they  fit 
round  the  burning  oakf,  and  the  night  is  fpent  in  fongs  of 
old.  The  hunter,  fitting  in  the  heath,  iliall  hear  the  rufl- 
ling  blaft  ;  and,  raifmg  his  eyes,  behold  the  rock  where 
Carthon  fell.  He  lliall  turn  to  his  fon,  and  lliew  the  place 
where  the  mighty  fought;  "  There  the  king  of  Balclutha 
fought,  like  the  (Irength  of  a  thoufand  ftreams." 

Joy 

*  This  exprenion  admits  of  a  double  meaning,  cither  ihat  Carthon  hoped  to  ac- 
quire glory  by  killing  Fingal;  or  to  be  rendered  famous  by  falling  by  his  hand. 
The  laft  is  the  mofl  probable,  as  Carthon  is  already  wounded. 

f  In  the  north  of  Scotland,  till  very  lately,  they  burnt  a  large  trunk  of  an  oak 
at  their  feftivals ;  it  was  called  the  trunk  oftliefeajl.  Time  had,  fo  much,  confe» 
crated  the  Cuftom,  that  the  vulgar  thought  it  a  kind  of  facrilcge  to  difufe  it. 


6o  CARTHON: 

Joy  rofe  in  Carthon's  face :  he  lifted  his  heavy  eyes. 
He  gave  his  fword  to  Fingai,  to  lie  within  his  hall,  that 
the  memory  of  Balclutha's  king  might  remain  in  Morven. 
The  battle  ceafed  along  the  field ;  the  bard  had  fung  the 
fong  of  peace.  The  chiefs  gathered  round  the  falling  Car- 
thon ;  they  heard  his  words,  with  fighs.  Silent  they 
leaned  on  their  fpears,  while  Balclutha's  hero  fpoke.  His 
hair  fighed  in  the  wind,  and  his  voice  was  fad  and  low. 

"  King  of  Morven,"  Carthon  faid,  "  I  fall  in  the  midfl 
of  my  courfe.  A  foreign  tomb  receives,  in  youth,  the  lafl 
of  Reuthcirair's  race.  Darknefs  dwells  in  Balclutha  :  the 
fhadows  of  grief  in  Crathmo.  But  raife  my  remembrance 
on  the  banks  of  Lora ;  where  my  fathers  dwelt.  Per- 
haps the  huftand  of  Moina  will  mourn  over  his  fallen 
Carthon."  His  words  reached  the  heart  of  Clefsamrnor  : 
he  fell,  in  filence.  on  his  fon.  The  holl  flood  darkened 
around:  no  voice  is  on  the  plain.  Night  came:  the  moon, 
from  the  eafr,  looked  on  the  mournful  field:  but  flill  they 
flood,  like  a  filent  grove  that  lifts  its  head  on  Gormal, 
v/hen  the  loud  winds  are  laid,  and  dark  autumn  is  on  the 
plain. 

Tfiree  days  they  mourned  above  Carthon  ;  on  the 
fourth  his  father  died.  In  the  narrow  plain  of  the  rock 
they  lie  ;  a  dim  ghofl  defends  their  tomb.  There  lovely 
Moina  is  often  feen  ;  when  the  fun-beam  darts  on  the  rock, 
and  all  around  is  dark.  There  fhe  is  feen,  Malvina  ;  but 
not  like  the  daughters  of  the  hill.  Her  robes  are  from  the 
flranger's  land ;  and  fhe  is  flill  alone. 

FiNGAL  was  fad  for  Carthon;  he  commanded  his  bards 
to  mark  the  day,  when  fliadowy  autumn  returned :  And 
often  did  they  mark  the  day,  and  fmg  the  hero's  praife. 
"  Who  comes  fo  dark  from  ocean's  roar,  like  autumn's 
fliadowy  cloud?  Death  is  trembling  in  his  hand!  his  eyes 
are  flames  of  fire !  Who  roars  along  dark  Lora's  heath  ? 
V/ho  but  Carthon,  king  of  fwords  ?  The  people  fall!  See! 
how  he  flrides,  like  the  fullen  ghofl  of  Morven !  But 
there  he  lies,  a  goodly  oak,  which  fudden  blafls  overturned! 
When  ihalt  thou  rife,  Balclutha's  joy  !  W^hen,  Carthon, 
(hrilt  thou  ariJe  ?  Who  comes  fo  dark  from  ocean's  roar, 
like  autumn's  fhadowy- cloud  ?"   Such  were  the  words  of 

the 


A    P  O  E  M;  61 

the  bards,  in  the  day  of  their  mourning:  OfTian  often 
joined  their  voice ;  and  added  to  their  fong.  My  foul 
has  been  mournful  for  Carthon;  he  fell  in  the  days  of  his 
youth.  And  thou,  O  Clefsammor  !  where  is  thy  dwelling 
in  the  wind  ?  Has  the  youth  forgot  his  wound  ?  Flies  he, 
on  clouds,  with  thee  ?  I  feel  the  fun,  O  Malvina ;  leave 
me  to  my  reft.  Perhaps  they  may  come  to  my  dreams ;  I 
think  I  hear  a  feeble  voice!  The  beam  of  heaven  delights 
to  fhine  on  the  grjve  of  Carthon:  I  feel  it  warm  around! 
O  TKOU  that  roUeft  above,  round  as  the  fhield  of  my 
fathers !  Whence  are  thy  beams,  O  fun !  thy  everlafiing 
light  ?  Thou  comeft  forth,  in  thy  aw'ful  beauty ;  the  ftars 
hide  themfelves  in  the  iky ;  the  moon,  cold,  and  pale, 
fmks  in  the  weftern  wave.  But  thou  thyfelf  moveft  alone: 
who  can  be  a  companion  of  thy  courfe !  The  oaks  of  the 
mountains  fall :  the  mountains  themfelves  decay  with 
years;  the  ocean  fhrinks  and  grows  again:  the  moon  her- 
felf  is  loft  in  heaven ;  but  thou  art  for  ever  the  fame ; 
rejoicing  in  the  brightnefs  of  thy  courfe.  When  the 
world  is  dark  with  tempefts :  when  thunder  rolls,  and 
lightning  flies ;  thou  lookeft  in  thy  beauty,  from  the  clouds, 
and  laugheft  at  the  ftorm.  But  to  Offian  thou  lookeft  in 
vain ;  for  he  beholds  thy  beams  no  more ;  whether  thy 
yellow  hair  flows  on  the  eaftern  clouds,  or  thou  trembleil 
at  the  gates  of  the  weft.  But  thou  art,  perhaps,  like  me, 
for  a  feafon  ;  thy  years  will  have  an  end.  Thou  ftialt  lleep 
in  thy  clouds,  carelefs  of  the  voice  of  the  morning.  Exult 
then,  O  fun,  in  the  ftrength  of  thy  youth !  Age  is  dark 
and  unlovely ;  it  is  like  the  glimmering  light  of  the  moon, 
when  it  fhines  through  broken  clouds,  and  the  mift  is  on 
the  hills ;  the  blaft  of  the  north  is  on  the  plain,  the  tra- 
veller Ihrinks  in  the  midft  of  his  journey. 


OINA. 


I   N  A-  M  O   R  U   L 


POEM. 


ARGUMENT. 

AFTER  an  addrefs  to  Malvina,  the  daughter  of  Tofcar,  OITian  proceeds  to  relate 
his  own  expedition  to  Fuarfed,  an  ifland  of  Scandinavia.  Mal-orchol,  king  of 
Fuarfed,  being  hard  preffed  in  war,  by  Ton-thormod,  chief  of  Sar-dronlo,  (who 
had  demanded,  in  vain,  the  daughter  of  Mal-orchol  in  marriage)  Fingal  fent 
Ofiian  to  his  aid.  Oflian,  on  the  day  after  his  arrival,  came  to  battle  with  Ton- 
thoimod,  and  took  him  prifoner.  Mal-orchol  offers  his  daughter  Oina-Morul 
to  Ofiian  :  but  he,  difcovering  herpaffion  for  Ton-thormod,  generoufly  furren- 
ders  her  to  her  lover,  and  brings  about  a  reconciliation  between  the  two  kings. 


OINA-MORUL: 


POEM. 

As  flies  the  unconftant  fun,  over  Larmon's  grafly  hill; 
fo  pafs  the  tales  of  old,  along  my  foul,  by  night  I 
When  bards  are  removed  to  their  place :  M^hen  harps  are 
hung  in  Selma's  hall ;  then  comes  a  voice  to  Offian,  and 
awakes  his  foul !  It  is  the  voice  of  years  that  are  gone ! 
they  roll  before  me,  with  all  their  deeds!  I  feize  the  tales, 
as  they  pafs,  and  pour  them  forth  in  fong.  Nor  a  troubled 
ftream  is  the  fong  of  the  king,  it  is  like  the  rifmg  of 
mufic  from  Lutha  of  the  firings.  Lutha  of  many  firings, 
not  filent  are  thy  ftreamy  rocks,  when  the  white  hands 
of  Malvina  move  upon  the  harp !  Light  of  the  fliadowy 
thoughts  that  fly  acrofs  my  foul,  daughter  of  Tofcar  of 
helmets,  wilt  thou  not  hear  the  fong !  We  call  back,  maid 
of  Lutha,  the  years  that  have  rolled  away  ! 

It  was  in  the  days  of  the  king,  while  yet  my  locks  were 
young,  that  I  marked  Con-cathlin  *,  on  high,  from 
ocean's  nightly  wave.  My  courfe  was  towards  the  ille  of 
Fuarfed,  woody  dweller  of  feas !  Fingal  had  fent  me  to 
the  aid  of  Mal-orchol,  king  of  Fuarfed  wild:  for  war  was 
around  him,  and  our  fathers  had  met,  at  the  feafl. 

In  Col-coiled,  I  bound  my  fails  ;  I  fent  my  fword  to 
Mal-orchol  of  fhells.  He  knew  the  fignal  of  Albion,  and 
his  joy  arofe.   He  came  from  his  own  high  hall,  and  feized 

I  my 

*  Con-cathlin,  mild  Uam  of  the  zvave .  What  ftar  was  fo  called  of  old  is  not 
cafily  afcer'ained.  Some  now  diflinguifli  the  pole-ftar  by  that  name.  A  fong, 
which  is  ftill  in  repute,  among  the  fea-farlng  part  of  the  Highlanders,  allud  -s  to 
this  paffage  of  Offian.  The  author  commends  the  knowledge  of  Oflian  in  fea-af- 
fairs;  a  merit,  which,  perhaps,  few  of  us  moderns  will  allow  him,  or  any  in  the 
age  in  v/hich  he  lived.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  the  Caledonians  often  made  their 
way  thro'  the  dangerous  and  tempefluous  feas  of  Scandinavia;  which  is  more,  per- 
haps, than  the  more  polifhed  nations,  fubfifling  in  thofe  times,  dared  to  venture. 
In  eftimating  the  degree  of  knowledge  of  arts  among  the  antients,  we  ought  not 
to  bring  it  into  comparifon  with  the  improvements  of  modern  times.  Our  advaiv 
{jges  over  them  proceed  more  from  accident,  than  any  merit  of  ours. 


66  OINA-MORUL: 

my  hand  in  grief.  "  Why  comes  the  race  of  heroes  to  a 
falling  king  ?  Ton-thormod  of  many  fpears  is  the  chief  of 
wavy  Sar-dronlo.  He  faw  and  loved  my  daughter,  white- 
bofomed  Oina-morul.  He  fought :  I  denied  the  maid ; 
for  our  fathers  had  been  foes.  He  came,  vvith  battle,  to 
Fuarfed ;  my  people  are  rolled  away.  Why  comes  the 
race  of  heroes  to  a  falling  king  ?'* 

I  COME  not,  I  faid,  to  look,  like  a  boy,  on  the  ftrife. 
Fingal  remembers  Mal-orchol,  and  his  hall  for  ftrangers. 
From  his  waves,  the  warrior  defcended,  on  thy  woody  ifle. 
Thou  wert  no  cloud  before  him.  Thy  feaft  was  fpread 
with  fongs.  .For  this  my  fword  Ihall  rife ;  and  thy  foes 
perhaps  may  fail.  Our  friends  are  not  forgot  in  their 
danger,  though  diflant  is  our  land. 

"  Descendant  of  the  daring  Trenmor,  thy  words  are 
like  the  voice  of  Cruth-loda,  when  he  fpeaks,  from  his 
parting  cloud,  flrong  dweller  of  the  fky !  .  Many  have  re- 
joiced at  my  feaft ;  but  they  all  have  forgot  Mal-orchol. 
I  have  looked  towards  all  the  winds  ;  but  no  white  fails 
were  feen.  Eut  fteel  *  refounds  in  my  hall ;  and  not  the 
joyful  fhells.  Come  to  my  dwelling,  race  of  heroes  ;  dark- 
'fkirted  night  is  near.  Hear  the  voice  of  fongs,  from  the 
maid  of  Fuarfed  wild." 

We  went.  On  the  harp  arofe  the  white  hands  of  Oina- 
morul.  She  waked  her  own  fad  tale,  from  every  trem- 
bling liring.  I  ftood  in  filence  ;  for  bright  in  her  looks 
was  the  daughter  of  many  ifles !  Her  eyes  were  two  ftars, 
looking  forw^ard  through  a  rufliing  fliower.  The  mariner 
marks  them  on  high,  and  bleifes  the  lovely  beams.    With 

morning 

*  There  is  a  fevere  fatire  couched  in  this  expreilion,  againft  the  guefls  of  Mal- 
orchol.  Had  his  feaft  been  flill  fpread,.  had  joy  continued  in  his  hail,  his  former 
parafitcs  would  not  have  failed  to  rcfort  to  him.  But  as  the  time  of  feftivity  was 
pad,  their  attendance  alfo  ce^fed.  The  fentiuients  of  a  certain  old  bard  are  a^r^rce- 
able  to  this  obfervation.  He,  poetically,  compares  a  great  man  to  a  fire  kindled 
.in  a  defart  place.  "  Thofe  that  pay  court  to  him,  fays  he,  arc  rolling  large  around 
him,  like  the  unoke  about  the  fire.  This  fmoke  gives  the  fire  a  great  appearance 
at  a  diftance,  but  it  is  but  an  empty  vapour  Itfelf,  and  varying  its  form  at  every 
breeze.  When  the  trunk,  which  fed  the  fire,  is  confumed,  the  fmoke  departs  on 
all  the  winds.  So  the  flatterers  forfake  their  chief,  when  his  power  dechnes."  I 
have  chofen  to  give  a  pa-aphrafe,  rather  than  a  tranllaiion,  ot  this  paffage,  as  the 
original  is  verbofe  and  frothy,  notwSihuanding  of  the  fcntimental  merit  of  the  au- 
thor. He  was  one  of  tlie  lefs  aiitient  bardSj  and  their  compofitions  arc  not  ncivoui 
enough  to  bear  a  literal  tianfluticn. 


A    P  O  E  M.  67 

morning  we  ruflied  to  battle,  to  Tormul's  refounding 
ftream  :  the  foe  moved  to  the  found  of  Ton-thormod's 
bofly  fliield.  From  v/ing  to  wing  the  flrifs  was  mixed.  I 
met  Ton-thormod  in  fight.  Wide  flew  his  broken  fteel. 
I  feized  the  king  in  v/ar.  I  gave  his  hand,  bound  faft  with 
thongs,  to  Mabprchol,  the  giver  of  (lieils.  Joy  rofe  at  the 
feafl  of  Fuarfcd,  for  the  foe  had  failed.  Ton-thormod 
turned  his  face  away,  from  Oina-morul  of  iiles  1" 

"  Son   of  Fingal,"   begun   Mal-ofchol,    "  not  forgot 
{halt  thou  pafs  from  me.     A  light  iliall  dv.  ell  in  thy  fliip, 
Oina-morul  of  flow-rolling  eyes.    She  ihall  kindle  glad-, 
nefs,  along  thy  mighty  foul.    Nor  unheeded  (hall  the  maid 
move  in  Selma,  through  the  dwelling  of  kings  !" 

In  the  hall  I  lay  in  night.  Mine  eyes  were  half-clofed 
in  fleep.  Soft  mufic  came  to  mine  ear  :  it  was  lik^  the 
rifmg  breeze,  that  whirls,  at  firft,  the  thiflle's  beard  ; 
then  flies,  dark-fliadowy,  over  the  grafs.  It  was  the  maid 
of  Fuarfed  wild  !  ihe  raifed  the  nightly  fong  ;  ihe  knew 
that  my  foul  was  a  ftream,  that  flowed  at  pleafant  founds. 
"  Who  looks,"  foe  faid,  "  from  his  rock,  on  ocean's  clof- 
ing  mift  ?  His  long  locks,  like  the  raven's  wing,  are  wan- 
dering on  the  blaft.  Stately  are  his  ileps  in  grief!  The 
tears  are  in  his  eyes  !  His  manly  breaft  is  heaving  over 
his  burfting  foul  !  Retire,  I  am  diftant  far  ;  a  wanderer 
in  lands  unknown.  Though  the  race  of  kings  are  around 
me,  yet  my  foul  is  dark.  Why  have  our  fathers  been 
foes,  Ton-thormod  love  of  maids !" 

"  Soft  voice  of  the  ftreamy  ifle,"  I  faid,  "  why  doft 
thou  mourn  by  night  ?  The  race  of  daring  Trenmor  are 
not  the  dark  in  foul.  Thou  flialt  not  wander  by  ftreams 
unknown,  blue-eyed  Oina-moriil !  AVithin  t!*iis  bofom  is 
a  voice  ;  it  comes  not  to  other  ears  :  it  bids  Oflran  hear 
the  haplefs,  in  their  hour  of  woe.  Retire,  fott  finger  by 
night ;  Ton-thormod  fl:iall  not  mourn  on  his  rock  !" 

With  morning  I  loofed  the  king.  I  gave  the  long- 
haired maid.  Mal-orchol  heard  my  words,  in  the  midft 
of  his  echoing  halls.  "  King  of  Fuarfed  wild,  why  fhould 
Ton-thormod  mourn  ?  He  is  of  the  race  of  heroes,  and  a 
flame  in  war.  Your  fathers  have  been  foes,  but  now  their 
dim  ghofts  rejoice  in  death.    They  ftretch  their  hands  oF 

mill: 


68  OINA-MORUL. 

mift  to  the  fame  jfhell  in  Loda.     Forget  their  rage,  ye 
warriors  !   it  was  the  cloud  of  other  years." 

Such  were  the  deeds  of  Offian,  while  yet  his  locks 
were  young  :  though  lovelinefs,  with  a  robe  of  beams, 
clothed  the  daughter  of  many  ifles.  We  call  back,  maid 
of  Lutha,  the  years  that  have  rolled  away  ! 


COLNA- 


COLNA-DON 


POEM. 


ARGUMENT. 

FINGAL  difpatches  OITian  anu  Tofcar,  the  fon  of  Conloch  and  father  of  Malvi- 
na,  to  raife  a  ftoiie,  on  the  banks  of  the  dream  of  Crona,  to  perpetuate  the  me- 
mory of  a  viflory,  which  he  had  obtained  in  that  place.  When  they  were  em- 
ployed in  that  v;ork,  Car-ul,  a  neighbouring  chief,  invited  them  to  a  feafl.  They 
v/ent;  and  Tofcar  fell  defperately  in  love  with  Colna-doaa,  the  daughter  of 
Car-ul.  Colna-dona  becomes  no  lefs  enamoured  of  Tofcar.  An  incident,  at  a 
hanting  party,  brings  their  loves  to  a  happy  iflue. 


COLNA-DONA: 

A 

P  O  E  xVT. 

*/^OL-AMON  of  troubled  flreams,  dark  wanderer  of 
Kji  diftant  vales,  I  behold  thy  courfe,  between  trees, 
near  Car-ul's  echoing  halls !  There  dwelt  bright  Colna-' 
dona,  the  daughter  of  the  king.  Her  eyes  were  rolling 
ftars  ;  her  arms  were  white  as  the  foam  of  flreams.  Her 
breaft  rofe  flov/iy  to  fight,  like  ocean's  heaving  wave.  Her 
foul  was  a  flream  of  light.  Who,  among  the  maids,  was 
like  the  love  of  heroes  ? 

Beneath  the  voice  of  the  king,  we  moved  to  Cronaf 
of  the  dreams,  Tofcar  of  graify  Lutha,  and  Offian,  young 
in  fields.  Three  bards  attended  with  fongs.  Three  bolTy 
fliields  were  borne  before  us  :  for  we  were  to  rear  the 
flone,  in  memory  of  the  pafl.  By  Crona*s  moffy  courfe, 
Fingal  had  fcattered  his  foes  :  he  had  rolled  away  the 
flrangers,  like  a  troubled  fea.  'We  came  to  the  place  of 
renown  :  from  the  mountains  defcended  night.  I  tore  an 
oak  from  its  hill,  and  raifed  a  flame  on  high.  I  bade  my 
fathers  to  look  down,  from  the  clouds  of  their  hail  j  for, 
at  the  fame  of  their  race,  they  brighten  in  the  wind. 

I  TOOK 

*  Colna-dona  figiiines  tie  love  of  heroes.  Col-amon,  narroto  river.  Car-ul,  dark- 
C}rd.  Col-amon,  the  refidcnce  of  Car-ul,  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Agricola'j 
wall,  towards  the  fouth.  Car-ul  feems  to  have  been  of  the  race  of  thofe  Britons, 
who  are  diftinguiflied  by  the  name  of  Maiatse,  by  the  writei:s.-of  Rome.  Maiata* 
is  derived  from  two  Galic  words,  Moi,  a  plain,  and  Aitich,  inhabitants;  fo  that 
the  fignification  of  Maiata  is,  the  inhabitants  of  the  plain  country ;  a  name  given  to 
the  Britons,  who  were  fettled  in  the  Lowlands,  in  contradlflin£lion  to  the  Caledo* 
mans,  (i.e.  Cael-don,  the  Gauls  of  the  hills)  who  were  pofieffed  of  the  more  moun-' 
tainous  divifion  of  North-Britain. 

t  Crona,  murmunng,  was  the  name  of  a  fmall  Rream,  which  difcharged  itfelf 
into  the  river  Carron,  It  is  oficn  mentioned  by  Offian,  and  the  fcencs  of  many 
ot  his  poems  are  on  its  banks.  The  enemies,  whom  Fingal  defeated  here,  are 
not  m.entioned.  They  were,  probably,  the  provincial  Britons.  That  traft  of  coun- 
try between  the  Firths  of  Forth  and  Clyde  has  been,  thro'  all  antiquity,  famous  for 
battles  and  rencounters,  between  the  different  nations,  who  were  pofielfcd  of  North 
and  South  Britain.  Stirling,  a  town  fituated  there,  derives  its  name  from  that  very 
circumftance.  It  is  a  corruption  of  the  Gallc  name,  Sui!.t,  i.  e.  the  hill,  cr  rocky 
of  contention. 


72 


COLNA>DONA: 


I  TOOK  a  ftone  from  the  ftream,  amidll  the  fong  of 
bards.  The  blood  of  Fingal's  foes  hung  curdled  in  its 
ooze.  Beneath,  I  placed,  at  intervals,  three  bolTes  from 
the  fhields  of  foes,  as  rofe  or  fell  the  found  of  UUin's 
nightly  fong,  Tofcar  laid  a  dagger  in  the  earth,  a  mail 
of  founding  fteel.  We  raifed  the  mould  around  the  ftone, 
and  bade  it  fpeak  to  other  years. 

Oozy  daughter  of  ftreams,  that  now  art  reared  on 
high,  fpeak  to  the  feeble,  O  ftone,  after  Selma's  race 
have  failed !  Prone,  from  the  ftormy  night,  the  traveller 
Ihall  lay  him  by  thy  fide ;  thy  whiftling  mofs  ftiall  found 
in  his  dreams  ;  the  years  that  were  paft  ftiall  return. 
Battles  rife  before  him,  blue-ftiielded  kings  defcend  to 
war:  the  darkened  moon  looks  from  heaven,  on  the  trou- 
bled field.  He  ftiall  burft,  with  morning,  from  dreams, 
and  fee  the  tombs  of  warriors  round.  He  lliall  afk  about 
the  ftone,  and  the  aged  ftiall  reply,  "  This  grey  ftone  was 
raifed  by  Oflian,  a  chief  of  other  years !" 

*  From  Col-amon  came  a  bard,  from  Car-ul,  the 
friend  of  ftrangers.  He  bade  us  to  the  feaft  of  kings,  to 
the  dwelling  of  bright  Colna-dona.  We  went  to  the  hall 
of  harps.  There  Car-ul  brightened  between  his  aged 
locks,  when  he  beheld  the  fons  of  his  friends,  like  two 
young  branches  before  him. 

"  Sons  of  the  mighty,"  he  faid,  "  ye  bring  back  the 
days  of  old,  when  firft  I  defcended  from  waves,  on  Sel- 
ma*s  ftreamy  vale !  I  purfued  Duth-mocarglos,  dweller  of 
ocean's  wind.  Our  fathers  had  been  foes,  we  met  by 
Clutha's  winding  waters.  He  fled,  along  the  fea,  and  my 
fails  were  fpread  behind  him.    Night  deceived  me,  on  the 

deep. 

*  The  manners  of  the  Britons  and  Caledonians  were  fo  fimiiar,  in  the  days  of 
Oflian,  that  there  can  be  no  doubt,  that  they  were  originally  the  fame  people,  and 
defcended  from  thole  Gauls  who  firft  poffeffed  themfelves  of  Souih-Bntain,  and 
gradually  migrated  to  the  north.  This  hypotkefis  is  more  rational  than  the  idle  fa- 
bles of  ill-informed  fenachies,  who  bring  the  Caledonians  from  diilant  countries. 
The  bare  opinion  of  Tacitus,  (which,  by-the-bye,  was  only  founded  on  a  fimilarity 
of  the  perfonal  figure  of  the  Caledonians  to  the  Germans  of  his  own  time)  tho'  it 
has  (lagt^ered  fome  learned  men,  is  not  fufficient  to  make  us  believe,  that  the  anci- 
ent inhabitants  of  North-Britain  were  a  German  colony.  A  difcuflion  of  a  point 
like  this  might  be  curious,  but  could  never  be  fatisfatlory.  Periods  fo  diftant  are 
fo  involved  in  obfcuuiv,  that  nothing  certain  can  be  now  advanced  concerning 
them.  The  light  which  the  Roman  writers  hold  forth  js  too  feeble  to  guide  us  to 
ihc  truth,  thro'  the  datknefs  which  b.as  funounded  it. 


A    P  O  E  M.  73 

deep.  I  came  to  the  dwelling  of  kiijgs,  to  Selma  of  high- 
bofomed  maids.  Fingal  came  forth  with  his  bards,  and 
Conloch,  arm  of  death.  I  feafled  three  days  in  the  hall,, 
and  faw  the  blue-eyes  of  Erin,  Ros-crana,  daughter  of 
heroes,  light  of  Cormac's  race.  Nor  forgot  did  my  fteps 
depart:  the  kings  gave  their  fhields  to  Car-ul:  they  hang, 
on  high,  in  Col-amon,  in  m.emory  of  the  paft.  Sons  of 
the  daring  kings,  ye  bring  back  the  days  of  old ! 

Car-ul  kindled  the  oak  of  feafts.  He  took  two  bofies 
from  our  ihields.  He  laid  them  in  earth,  beneath  a  (lone, 
to  fpeak  to  the  hero's  race.  "  When  battle,"  faid  the 
king,  "  Ihall  roar,  and  our  fons  are  to  meet  in  wrath, 
my  race  fliaii  look,  perhaps,  on  this  (tone,  when  they  pre- 
pare the  fpear.  Have  not  our  fathers  met  ?  they  will  fay, 
and  lay  afide  the  fliield." 

Night  came  dcrvvn.  In  her  long  locks  moved  the 
daughter  of  Car-ul.  Mixed  with  the  harp  arofe  the  voice 
of  white-armed  Colna-dona.  Tofcar  darkened  in  his 
place,  before  the  love  of  heroes.  She  came  on  his  trou- 
bled foul,  like  a  beam,  to  the  dark-heaving  ocean :  when, 
it  burfts  from  a  cloud,  and  brightens  the  foamy  fide  of  a 
wave*. 


With  morning  we  awaked  the  woods ;  and  hung  for- 
ward on  the  path  of  the  roes.  They  fell  by  their  wonted 
ftreams.  We  returned  through  Crona's  vale.  From  the 
wood  a  youth  came  forward,  with  a  Ihield  and  pointlefs 
fpear.  "  Whence,"  faid  Tofcar  of  Lutha,  "  is  the  flying 
beam  ?  Dwells  there  peace  at  Col-amon,  round  bright 
Colna-dona  of  harps  ?" 

"  By  Col-amon  of  dreams,"  faid  the  youth,  "  bright 
Colna-dona  dwelt.  She  dwelt ;  but  her  courfe  is  now  in 
defarts,  with  the  fon  of  the  king ;  he  that  feized  with 
love  her  foul  as  it  wandered  thro'  the  hall."  "  Stranger 
or  tales,"  laid  Tofcar,  "  haft  thou  marked  the  warrior's 
courfe  ?  He  mud  fall :  give  thou  that  boffy  Ihield !"  In 
wrath  he  took  the  fliield.     Fair  behind  it  rofe  the  breafl:s 

K  of 

*  Here  an  epifode  is  entirely  loft  ;  or,  at  leaft,  is  handed  down  fo  impeifeftl/^ 
that  it  does  not  defervc  a  place  in  the  poem. 


74 


COLNA-DON  A. 


of  a  maid,  white  as  the  bofom  of  a  fwan,  rifmg  graceful 
on  fwift-rolling  waves.  It  was  Colna-dona  of  harps,  the 
daughter  of  the  king !  Her  blue  eyes  had  rolled  on  Tof- 
car,  and  her  iove  arofe ! 


OITHONA 


I     T     H     6     N     A 


A 


P  O  E 


ARGUMENT. 

GAUL,  the  fon  of  Morni,  attended  Lathmon  into  his  own  country  after  his  being 
defeated  in  Morven,  as  related  in  the  prece,ding  poem.  He  was  kindly  enter- 
tained by  Nuath,  the  father  of  Lathmon,  and  fell  in  love  with  his  daughter  Oi- 
thona.  The  lady  was  no  lefs  enamoured  of  Gaul,  and  a  day  was  fixed  for  their 
marriage.  In  the  mean  time  Fingal,  preparing  for  an  expedition  into  the 
country  of  the  Britons,  fent  for  Gaul.  He  obeyed,  and  went ;  but  not  without 
promifing  to  Oithona  to  return,  if  he  furvived  the  war,  by  a  certain  day.  Lath- 
mon too  was  obliged  to  anend  his  father  Nuath  in  his  wars,  and  Oithona  was  left 
alone  at  Dunlathmon,  the  feat  of  the  family.  Dunrommath,  lord  of  Uthal, 
fuppofed  to  be  one  of  the  Orkneys,  taking  advantage  of  the  abfence  of  her 
friends,  came  and  carried  off,  by  force,  Oithona,  who  had  formerly  rejefted  his 
love,  into  Tromathon,  a  defart  ifland,  where  he  concealed  her  in  a  cave. 

Gaul  returned  on  the  day  appointed ;  heard  of  the  rape,  and  failed  to  Troma- 
thon, to  revenge  himfelf  on  Dunrommath.  When  he  landed,  he  found  Oi- 
thona difconfolate,  ar.d  refolved  not  to  furvive  the  lofs  of  her  honour.  She  told 
him  the  ftory  of  her  misfortunes,  and  fhe  fcarce  ended,  when  Dunrommath, 
with  his  followers,  appeared  at  the  further  end  of  the  ifland.  Gaul  prepared  to 
attack  him,  recommending  to  Oithona  to  retire,  till  the  battle  was  over.  She 
feemingly  obeyed;  but  fhe  fecretly  armed  herfelf,  rufiied  into  the  thickefl  of  the 
battle,  and  was  mortally  wounded.  Gaul  purfuing  the  flying  enemy,  found  her 
juft  expiring  on  the  field:  he  mourned  over  her,  raifcd  her  tomb,  and  returned 
to  Morven.  Thus  is  the  flory  handed  down  by  tradition;  nor  is  it  given  with 
any  material  difference  in  the  poem,  which  opens  with  Gaul's  return  to  Dun- 
laihnion,  after  the  rape  of  Oithona. 


O      I     T     H      O     N     A  : 


OEM. 


DARKNESS  dwells  around  Dunlathmon,  though  the 
moon  fhews  half  her  face  on  the  hill.  The  daugh- 
ter  of  night  turns  her  eyes  "away ;  flie  beholds  the  ap- 
proaching grief.  The  fon  of  Morni  is  on  the  plain  :  there 
is  no  found  in  the  hall.  No  long-ftreaming  beam  of  light 
comes  trembling  through  the  gloom.  The  voice  of  Oitho- 
na  *  is  not  heard  amidll  the  noife  of  the  ftreams  of  Duv- 
ranna.  "  Whither  art  thou  gone  in  thy  beauty,  dark- 
haired  daughter  of  Nuath  ?  Lathmon  is  in  the  field  of  the 
valiant,  but  thou  didft  promife  to  remain  in  the  hall  ; 
thou  didft  promife  to  remain  in  the  hall,  till  the  fon  of 
Morni  returned — till  he  returned  from  Strumon,  to  the 
maid  of  his  love  !  The  tear  was  on  thy  cheek  at  his  de- 
parture ;  the  figh  rofe  in  fecret  in  thy  breaft.  But  thou 
doft  not  come  forth  with  fongs,  with  the  lightly-trembling 
found  of  the  harp  !" 

Such  were  the  words  of  Gaul,  when  he  came  to  Dun- 
lathmon's  towers.  The  gates  were  open  and  dark.  The 
winds  were  bluftering  in  the  hall.  The  trees  ftrewed  the 
threfhold  with  leaves  :  the  murmur  of  night  was  abroad. 
Sad  and  filent,  at  a  rock,  the  fon  of  Morni  fat :  his  foul 
trembled  for  the  maid  ;  but  he  knew  not  whither  to  turn 
his  courfe.  The  fon  |  of  Leth  ftood  at  a  diftance,  and 
heard  the  winds  in  his  bufhy  hair.  But  he  did  not  raife 
his  voice,  for  he  faw  the  forrow  of  Gaul ! 

Sleep  defcended  on  the  chiefs.  The  vifions  of  night 
arofe.     Oithona  ftood,  in  a  dream,  before  the  eyes  of 

Morni's 

*  Ol-thona,  the  virgin  of  the  wave. 

+  Morlo,  the  fon  of  Leth,  is  one  of  FingaPs  mod  famous  heroes.     He  and 
three  other  men  attended  Gaul  on  his  expedition  to  Tromathon. 


-B  O  I  T  H  O  N  A  : 

Monii^s  fon.  Her  hair  was  loofe  and  difordered  :  her 
lo¥eiy  eye  rolled  deep  in  tears^  Blood  ftained  her  fnowy 
arm.  The  robe  half  hid  the  wound  of  her  bread.  She 
ilood  over  the  chief,  and  her  voice  was  feebly  heard. 
^^'  Sleeps  the  [on  of  Morni,  he  that  was  lovely  in  the  eyes 
ofOithona?  Sleeps  Gaul  at  the  diftant  rock,  and  the 
daughter  of  Nuath  low  ?  The  fea  rolls  round  the  dark  ifle 
of  Tromathon.  I  fit  in  my  tears  in  the  cave  !  Nor  do  I  fit 
alone,  O  Gaul :  the  dark  chief  of  Cuthal  is  there.  He  is 
there  in  the  rage  of  his  love.     What  can  Oithona  do  ?'* 

A  ROUGHER  blafl  ruilied  through  the  oak.  The  dream 
of  night  departed.  Gaul  took  his  afpen  fpear.  He  flood 
in  the  rage  of  his  foul.  Often  did  his  eyes  turn  to  the 
eafl.  He  accufed  the  lagging  light.  At  length  the  morn- 
ing came  forth.  The  hero  lifted  up  the  fail.  The  winds 
came  ruftling  from  the  hill ;  he  bounded  on  the  waves  of 
the  deep.  On  the  third  day  arofe  Tromathon  *,  like  a 
blue  fhield  in  the  midft  of  the  fea.  The  white  wave  roared 
againfl  its  rocks ;  fad  Oithona  fat  on  the  coaft  1  She  look- 
ed on  the  rolling  waters,  and  her  tears  came  down.  But 
when  file  faw  Gaul  in  his  arms,  flie  ftarted  and  turned  her 
eyes  away.  Her  lovely  cheek  is  bent  and  red  ;  her  white 
smi  trembles  by  her  fide.  Thrice  flie  ftrove  to  fly  from 
his  prefence  ;  thrice  her  fleps  failed  her  as  fhe  went ! 

*'  Daughter  of  Nuath,"  faid  the  hero,  "  why  dofh 
thou  fly  from  Gaul  ?  Do  my  eyes  fend  forth  the  llame  of 
death  ?  Darkens  hatred  in  my  foul  ?  Thou  art  to  me  the 
beam  of  the  eall,  rifing  in  a  land  unknown.  But  thou 
covereft  thy  face  with  fadnefs,  daughter  of  car-borne 
Nu'ith  !  Is  the  foe  of  Oithona  near  ?  My  foul  burns  to 
meet  him  in  fight.  The  fword  trembles  by  the  fide  of 
Gaul,  and  longs  to  glitter  in  his  hand.  Speak,  daughter 
of  Nuath,  dofl  thou  not  behold  my  tears  ?'* 

'^  Young  chief  of  Strumon,"  replied  the  maid,  "  why 
comeft  thou  over  the  dark-blue  wave,  to  Nuath *s  mourn- 
ful daughter  ?  Why  did  I  not  pafs  av/ay  In  fecret,  like  the 
flower  of  the  rock,  that  lifts  its  fair  head  unfeen,  and 
flrews  its  withered  leaves  on  the  blafl  ?  Why  didfl  thou 
come,  O  Gaul,  to  hear  my  departing  figh  ?    I  vanilh  in 

my 

*  Tiom-thon,  heavy  or  deep-founding  wave-. 


A    P  O  E  M.  79 

my  youth  ;  my  name  fliall  not  be  heard.  Or  it  will  be 
heard  with  grief:  the  tears  of  Nuath  muft  fall.  Thou  v/ik 
be  fad,  fon  of  Morni,  for  the  departed  fame  of  Oithona* 
But  fhe  fhall  lleep  in  the  narrow  tomb,  far  from  the  voice 
of  the  mourner.  Why  didft  thou  come,  chief  of  Strumon^ 
to  the  fea-beat  rocks  of  Tromathon  ?" 

"I  CAME  to  meet  thy  foes,  daughter  of  car-borne- 
Nuath  !  The  death  of  CuthaFs  chief  darkens  before  me  ; 
or  Morni's  fon  fhall  fall  !  Oithona  !  when  Gaul  is  low, 
raife  my  tomb  on  that  oozy  rock.  When  the  dark-bound- 
ing fliip  fhall  pafs,  call  the  fons  of  the  fea  !  call  them,  and 
give  this  fword,  to  bear  it  hence  to  Morni's  hall.  The 
grey-haired  chief  will  then  ceafe  to  look  towards  the  de- 
fart,  for  the  return  of  his  fon  !'* 

'•  Shall  the  daughter  of  Nuath  live  ?"  fhe  replied  wltll 
a  burfting  figh.  "  Shall  I  live  in  Tromathon,  and  the 
fon  of  Morni  low  ?  My  heart  is  not  of  that  rock  ;  nor  my 
foul  carelefs  as  that  fea  ;  which  lifts  its  blue  waves  to  every 
wind,  and  rolls  beneath  the  florm !  The  biafl  which  fhall 
lay  thee  low,  fhali  fpread  the  branches  of  Oithona  on 
earth.  We  fhall  wither  together,  fon  of  car-borne  Morni ! 
The  narrow  houfe  is  pleafant  to  me,  and  the  grey  ftone  of 
the  dead  :  for  never  more  will  I  leave  thy  rocks,  O  fea- 
furrounded  Tromathon  !— — Night  *  came  on  with  her 
clouds,  after  the  departure  of  Lathmon,  when  he  went 
to  the  wars  of  his  fathers,  to  the  mofs-covered  rock  of 
Duthormoth.  Night  came  on.  I  fat  in  the  hall,  at  the 
beam  of  the  oak !  The  wind  was  abroad  in  the  trees.  I 
heard  the  found  of  arms.  Joy  rofe  in  my  face.  I  thought 
of  thy  return.  It  was  the  chief  of  Cuthal,  the  red-haired 
ftrength  of  Dunrommath.  His  eyes  rolled  in  fire :  the 
blood  of  my  people  was  on  his  fword.  They  who  defend- 
ed Oithona  fell  by  the  gloomy  chief!  What  could  I  do? 
My  arm  was  weak.  I  could  not  lift  the  fpear.  He  took 
me  in  my  grief,  amidft  my  tears  he  raifed  the  fail.  He 
feared  the  returning  Lathmon,  the  brother  of  unhappy 
Oithona ! — — But,  behold,  he  comes  with  his  people !  the 
dark  wave  is  divided  before  him !  Whither  wilt  thou  turn 

thy 

*  Olthoia  relates  how  Ihc  w^  carried  away  by  Dunronimath,  ' 


So  O  I  T  H  O  N  A  : 

thy  fteps,  foil  of  Morni  ?  Many  are  the  warriors  of  thy 
foe  !" 

"  My  fleps  never  turned  from  battle,"  Gaul  faid,  and 
uniheathed  his  fword.  "  Shall  I  then  begin  to  fear,  Oi- 
thona,  when  thy  foes  are  near  ?  Go  to  thy  cave,  my  love, 
till  our  battle  ceafe  on  the  held.  Son  of  Leth,  bring  the 
bows  of  our  fathers  !  the  founding  quiver  of  Morni !  Let 
our  three  warriors  bend  the  yew.  Ourfelves  will  lift  the 
fpear.  They  are  an  hofl  on  the  rock  !  our  fouls  are  ftrong 
in  war  !'* 

OiTHONA  went  to  the  cave.  A  troubled  joy  rofe  on  her 
mind,  like  the  red  path  of  lightning  on  a  llormy  cloud  ! 
Her  foul  was  refolved  ;  the  tear  was  dried  from  her  wildly- 
looking  eye.  Dunrommath  llowly  approached.  He  law 
the  fon  of  Morni.  Contempt  contracted  his  iace  ;  a  fmile 
is  on  his  dark-brown  cheek ;  \\h  red  eye  rolled,  haif- 
conceal'd,  beneath  his  Ihaggy  brows  ! 

•'  Whence  are  the  fons  of  the  fea  ?"  begun  the  gloomy 
chief.  "  Have  the  winds  driven  you  on  the  rocks  of 
Tromathon  ?  Or  come  you  in  fearch  of  the  white-handed 
maid  ?  The  fons  of  the  unhappy,  ye  feeble  men,  come  to 
the  hand  of  Dunrommath  !  His  eye  fpares  not  the  weak  ; 
he  delights  in  the  blood  of  ftrangers.  Oithona  is  a  beam 
of  light,  and  the  chief  of  Cuthal  enjoys  it  in  fecret : 
wouidft  thou  come  on  its  lovelinefs,  like  a  cloud,  fon  of 
the  feeble  hand  !  Thou  mayil  come  ;  but  fhalt  thou  re- 
turn to  the  halls  of  thy  fathers  ?"  "  Doft  thou  not  know 
me,"  faid  Gaul,  "  red-haired  chief  of  Cuthai  ?  Thy  feet 
were  fwift  on  the  heath,  in  the  battle  of  car-borne  Lath- 
mon  ;  when  the  fword  of  Morni's  fon  purfued  his  hofi;,  in 
Morven's  woody  land.  Dunrommath !  thy  words  are 
mighty,  for  thy  warriors  gather  behind  thee.  But  do  I 
fear  them,  fon  of  pride?  I  am  not  of  the  race  of  the  feeble  !'* 

Gx\UL  advanced  in  his  arms;  Dunrommath  fhrunk 
behind  his  people.  But  the  fpear  of  Gaul  pierced  the 
gloomy  chief;  his  fword  lopped  off  his  head,  as  it  bended 
in  death.  The  fon  of  Morni  fliook  it  thrice  by  the  lock ; 
the  vv'arriors  of  Dunrommath  fled.  The  arrows  of  Morven 
purfued  them  :  ten  fell  on  the  moify  rocks.  The  reft  lift 
the  founding  fail,  and  bound  on  the  troubled  deep.    Gaul 

advanced 


A    P  O  E  M.  81 

advanced  towards  the  cave  of  Olthona.  He  beheld  a 
youth  leaning  on  a  rock.  An  arrow  had  pierced  his  fide; 
his  eye  rolled  faintly  beneath  his  helmet.  The  foul  of 
Morni's  fon  was  fad,  he  came  and  fpoke  the  words  of 
peace. 

"  Can  the  hand  of  Gaul  heal  thee,  youth  of  the  mourn- 
ful brow  ?  I  have  fearched  for  the  herbs  of  the  mountains; 
I  have  gathered  them  on  the  fecret  banks  of  their  itreams. 
My  hand  has  clofed  the  wound  of  the  brave,  their  eyes 
have  bleifed  the  fon  of  Morni.  Where  dwelt  thy  fathers, 
warrior?  Were  they  of  the  fons  of  the  mighty?  Sadnefs 
Ihall  come,  like  night,  on  thy  native  dreams.  Thou  art 
fallen  in  thy  youth  !" 

'*^My  fathers,'*  replied  the  ftranger,  "  were  of  the  race 
of  the  mighty  ;  but  they  fliall  not  be  fad  ;  for  my  fame  is 
departed  like  morning  mift.  High  wails  rife  on  the  banks 
of  Duvranna  ;  and  fee  their  moify  towers  in  the  ftream  ; 
a  rock  afcends  behind  them  with  its  bending  pines. 
Thou  mayft  behold  it  far  diflant.  There  my  brother 
dwells.  He  is  renowned  in  battle:  give  him  this  glittering 
helm." 

The  helmet  fell  from  the  hand  of  Gaul.  It  was  the 
wounded  Oithona!  She  had  armed  herfeif  in  the  cave, 
and  came  in  fearch  of  death.  Her  heavy  eyes  are  half 
clofed  ;  the  blood  pours  from  her  heaving  fide.  "  Son  of 
Morni,"  fhe  faid,  "  prepare  the  narrow  tomb.  Sleep 
grows,  like  darknefs,  on  my  foul.  The  eyes  of  Oithona 
are  dim !  O  had  I  dwelt  at  Duvranna,  in  the  bright  beam 
of  my  fame  !  then  had  my  years  come  on  with  joy  ;  the 
virgins  would  then  blefs  my  fteps.  But  I  fall  in  youth, 
fon  of  Morni ;  my  father  fhail  blulh  in  his  hall  !'* 

She  fell  pale  on  the  rock  of  Tromathon.  The  m.ournfuI 
warrior  raifed  her  tomb.  He  came  to  Morven ;  we  faw 
the  darknefs  of  his  foul.  OfTian  took  the  Iiarp  in  the 
praife  of  Oithona.  The  brightnefs  of  the  face  of  Gaul 
returned.  But  his  figh  rofe,  at  times,  in  the  midft  of  his 
friends ;  like  blafts  that  ihake  their  unfrequent  wings, 
sifter  the  ftormy  winds  are  laid ! 


CROMA, 


R        O 


A 


A 


P  O  E  M. 


ARGUMENT, 

MALVINA  die  daughter  of  Tofcai  is  ov>erhearcl  by  OfTian  lamenting  the  death 
of  Ofcar  her  lover.  Ofiian,  to  divert  her  grief,  relates  his  own  aSions  in  an 
expedition,  which  he  undertook,  at  Fingal's  command,  to  aid  Crothar  the  petty- 
king  of  Croma,  a  country  in  Ireland,  againft  Rothmar,  who  invaded  his  domi- 
nions. The  flory  is  delivered  down  thus  in  tradition.  Crothar  king  of  Croma 
being  blind  with  age,  and  his  fon  too  young  for  the  field,  Rothmar  the  chief  of 
Tromlo  refolved  to  avail  himfelf  of  the  opportunity  offered  of  annexing  the 
dominions  of  Crothar  to  his  own.  He  accordingly  marched  into  the  country 
•fubjeft  to  Crothar,  but  which  he  held  of  Arth  or  Artho,  who  was,  at  the  time, 
fupreme  king  of  Ireland. 

Crothar  being,  on  account  of  his  age  and  blindnefs,  unfit  for  aflion,  fent  for  aid 
to  Fingal  king  of  Scotland;  who  ordered  his  fon  Ofiian  to  the  relief  of  Crothar. 
But  before  his  arrival,  Fovar-gormo,  the  fon  of  Crothar,  attacking  Rothmar,  was 
{lain  himfelf,  and  his  forces  totally  defeated.  Ofiian  renewed  the  war;  came 
to  battle,  killed  R.othmar,  and  routed  his  army,  Croma  being  thus  delivered  of 
its  enemies,  Ofiian  returned  to  Scotland. 


R         O  M         A  : 


P  O  E  M. 

"  TT  was  the  voice  of  my  love !  feldom  art  thou  In  the 
X  dreams  of  Malvina!  Open  your  airy  halls,  O  fathers 
of  Tofcar  of  (hields !  Unfold  the  gates  of  your  clouds  : 
the  fteps  of  Malvina  are  near.  I  have  heard  a  voice  in 
my  dream.  I  feel  the  fluttering  of  my  foul.  Why  didll 
thou  come,  O  blaft,  from  the  dark-rolling  face  of  the 
lake  ?  Thy  ruftling  wing  was  in  the  tree  ;  the  dream  of 
Malvina  fled.  But  flie  beheld  her  love,  when  his  robe  of 
mill  flew  on  the  wind.  A  fun-beam  was  on  his  fl^irts, 
they  ghttered  like  the  gold  of  the  ftranger.  It  was  the 
voice  of  my  love !    feldom  comes  he  to  my  dreams ! 

"  But  thou  dwellell  in  the  foul  of  Malvina,  fon  of 
mighty  Oflian !  My  fighs  arife  with  the  beam  of  the  eaft; 
my  tears  defcend  with  the  drops  of  night.  I  v/as  a  lovely 
tree,  in  thy  prefence,  Ofcar,  with  all  my  branches  round 
me  ;  but  thy  death  came  like  a  blaft  from  the  defart,  and 
laid  my  green  head  low.  The  fpring  returned  with  its 
fhowers;  no  leaf  of  mine  arofe!  The  virgins  faw  me  filent 
in  the  hall ;  they  touched  the  harp  of  joy.  The  tear  was 
on  the  cheek  of  Malvina :  the  virgins  beheld  me  in  my 
grief.  Why  art  thou  fad,  they  faid ;  thou  firft  of  the 
maids  of  Lutha!  Was  he  lovely  as  the  beam  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  ftately  in  thy  fight  ?" 

Pleasant  is  thy  fong  in  Ofllan's  ear,  daughter  of 
ftreamy  Lutha !  Thou  hall  heard  the  mufic  of  departed 
bards,  in  the  dream  of  fhy  reft,  when  fleep  fell  on  thine 
eyes,  at  the  murmur  of  Moruth*.  When  thou  didft  return 
from  the  chace,  in  the  day  of  the  fun,  thou  haft  heard 
the  mufic  of  bards,  and  thy  fong  is  lovely !  It  is  lovely, 
O  Malvina,  but  It  melts  the  foul.  There  is  a  joy  in  grief 
when  peace  dwells  in  the  breaft  of  the  fad.     But  forrow 

waftes 

*  Mor'-ruth,  great Jlrcam, 


86  C    R    O    M    A: 

wades  the  mournful,  O  daughter  of  Tofcar,  and  their 
days  are  few !  They  fall  away,  like  the  flower  on  which 
the  fun  hath  looked  in  his  Itrength  after  the  mildew  has 
pafled  over  it,  when  its  head  is  heavy  with  the  drops  of 
night.  Attend  to  the  tale  of  OfTian,  O  maid.  He  remem- 
bers the  days  of  his  youth  ! 

The  king  commanded  ;  I  raifed  my  fails,  and  ruflied 
into  the  bay  of  Croma ;  into  Croma's  founding  bay,  in 
lovely  Inisfail*.  High  on  the  coaft  arofe  the  towers  of 
Crothar  king  of  fpears  ;  Crothar  renowned  in  the  battles 
of  his  youth  ;  but  age  dwelt  then  around  the  ch^ef.  Rolh- 
mar  had  raifed  the  fword  ap;ainil  the  hero  ;  and  the  wrath 
of  Fingal  burned.  He  feni;  Offian  to  meet  RotLraar  In 
war,  for  the  chief  of  Croma  was  the  friei.d  of  his  youth. 
I  fent  the  bard  before  me  with  fongs.  I  Ccime  into  the  hail 
of  Crothar.  There  fat  the  chief  ariidil  the  arm.s  of  his 
fathers,  but  his  eyes  had  failed.  His  grey  locks  waved 
around  a  flaff,  on  which  the  warrior  leaned.  He  hummed 
the  fong  of  other  times,  when  the  found  of  our  arms 
reached  his  ears.  Crothar  ro^e,  flretched  his  aged  hand, 
and  blelTed  the  fon  of  Fingal. 

"  OssiAN,"  faid  the  hero,  "  the  ftrength  of  Crothar's 
arm  has  failed.  O  could  I  lift  the  fword,  as  on  the  day 
that  Fingal  fought  at  Strutha  !  He  was  the  firit  of  men ! 
but  Crothar  had  alfo  his  fame.  The  king  of  Morven 
praifed  me  ;  he  placed  on  my  arm  the  boify  fhield  of 
Calthar,  whom  the  king  had  flain  in  his  wars.  Doft  thou 
not  behold  it  on  the  wall,  for  Crothar*s  eyes  have  failed  ? 
Is  thy  ftrength  like  thy  father's,  Offian  ?  Let  the  aged 
feel  thine  arm  !'* 

I  GAVE  my  arm  to  the  king;  he  felt  it  with  his  aged 
hands.  The  figh  rofe  in  his  breaft,  and  his  tears  came 
down.  "  Thou  art  ftrong,  my  fon,"  he  faid,  "  but  not 
like  the  king  of  Morven !  But  who  is  like  the  hero  among 
the  mighty  in  war  !  Let  the  feaft  of  my  hall  be  fpread  j 
and  let  my  bards  exalt  the  fong.  Great  is  he  that  is  with- 
in my  walls,  ye  fons  of  echoing  Croma  !'*  The  feaft  is 
fpread.  The  harp  is  heard  ;  and  joy  is  in  the  hall.  But 
it  was  joy  covering  a  figh,  that  darkly  dwelt  in  every  breaft. 

It  ! 

*  hJsfaily  one  of  the  ancient  names  of  Ireland,  ! 


A    P  O  E  M.  87 

It  was  like  the  faint  beam  of  the  moon  fpread  on  a  cloud 
in  heaven.  At  length  the  mufic  ceafed,  and  the  aged  king 
of  C:  oina  ^poke  ;  he  fpoke  without  a  tear,  but  forrow 
Lwelled  in  the  midft  of  his  voice. 

"  Son  of  Fingal !  behold'fl  thou  not  the  darknefs  of 
Crothar's  joy  ?  My  foul  was  not  fad  at  the  feaft,  when  my 
people  lived  before  me.  I  rejoiced  in  the  preience  of  flran- 
gers,  v/hen  my  fon  flione  in  the  hall.  But,  OfF-an,  he  is  a 
beam  that  is  departed.  He  left  no  ftreak  of  light  behind. 
He  is  fal'en,  fon  of  Fingal,  in  the  wars  of  his  father. 
Roihmar,  the  chief  of  grafly  Tromlo,  heard  that  thefc 
eyes  had  failed  ;  he  heard  that  my  arms  were  fixed  in 
the  hall,  and  the  pride  of  his  foul  arofe !  He  came  to- 
wards Croma  ;  my  people  fell  before  him.  I  took  my 
arms  in  my  wrath  ;  but  what  could  fightlefs  Crothar  do  ? 
My  fteps  were  unequal ;  my  grief  was  great.  I  wifhed  for 
the  days  that  were  paft — Days !  wherein  I  fought ;  and 
won  in  the  field  of  blood.  My  fon  returned  from  the 
chace,  the  fair-haired  Fovar-gormo*.  He  had  not  lifted 
his  fword  in  battle,  for  his  arm  was  young.  But  the  foul  of 
the  youth  was  great ;  the  fire  of  valour  burnt  in  his  eyes. 
He  faw  the  difordered  fteps  of  his  father,  and  his  figh 
arofe.  "  King  of  Croma,"  he  faid,  "  is  it  becaufe  thou 
haft  no  fon  ;  is  it  for  the  weaknefs  of  Fovar-gormo's  arm 
that  thy  nghs  arife  ?  I  begin,  my  father,  to  feel  my  ftrength : 
I  have  drawn  the  fword  of  my  youth  ;  and  I  have  bent . 
the  bow.  Let  me  meet  this  Rothmar,  with  the  fons  of 
Croma  :  let  me  meet  him,  O  my  father  ;  I  feel  my  burn- 
ing foul  !'*  And  thou  flialt  meet  him,  I  faid,  fon  of  the 
fightlefs  Crothar  !  But  let  others  advance  before  thee,  that 
I  may  hear  the  tread  of  thy  feet  at  thy  return ;  for  my 
eyes  behold  thee  not,  fair-haired  Fovar-gormo  !  He  went  j 
I'e  met  the  foe;  he  fell.  Rothmar  advances  to  Croma. 
He  v/no  flew  my  fon  is  near,  with  all  his  pointed  fpears." 

This  is  no  time  to  fill  the  fliell,  I  replied,  and  took  my 
f; eir  !  My  people  faw  the  fire  of  my  eyes  ;  they  all  arole 
arourd.  I'hrough  night  v/e  ftrode  along  the  heath.  Grey 
iroioiiig  rcle  in  the  eaft.  A  green  narrow  vale  appeared 
belorc  us  -,  nor  wanting  was   its  winding  ftream.     The 

dark 

*  Faobhar-^^oim,  cke  Mu^.  (w'nt  of  fuel. 


88  C    R    O    M     A: 

dark  boil  of  Rothmar  are  on  its  banks,  with  all  their 
glittering  arms.  We  fought  along  the  vale.  They  fled. 
Rothmar  funk  beneath  my  Iword  !  Day  had  not  defcend- 
cd  in  the  weft,  when  I  brought  his  arms  to  Crothar.  The 
aged  hero  felt  them  with  his  hands,  and  joy  brightened 
over  all  his  thoughts. 

The  people  gather  to  the  hall.  ,The  fliells  of  the  feaft 
are  heard.  Ten  harps  are  ftrung  ;  five  bards  advance, 
and  fmg,  by  turns*,  the  praife  of  Offian  ;  they  poured 

forth 

*  Thofe  extempore  compofitions  were  in  great  repute  among  fucceeding  bards. 
The  pieces  extant  of  that  kind  fhew  more  of  the  good  ear,  than  of  the  poetical 
genius  of  their  authors.  The  traiifiator  has  only  met  with  one  poem  of  this  fort, 
which  he  thinks  worthy  of  being  preferved.  It  is  a  ihoufand  years  later  than 
Offian,  but  the  authors  feem  to  have  obferved  his  manner,  and  adopted  fome  of 
his  expreffions.  The  flory  of  it  is  this.  Five  bards,  paffing  the  night  in  the  houfe 
of  a  chief,  who  was  a  poet  himfelf,  went  feverally  to  make  their  obiervations  on, 
and  returned  with  an  extempore  defcription  of,  night.  The  night  happened  to  be 
one  in  Oftober,  as  appeals  i^iom  the  poem,  and  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  it  has 
all  that  variety  which  the  bards  afcribe  to  it,  in  their  defcriptions, 

FIRST  BARD. 

NIGHT  is  dull  and  dark.  The  clouds  reft  on  the  hills.  No  flar  with  green 
trembling  beam  ;  no  moon  looks  from  the  Ikv.  I  hear  the  blaft  in  the  wood  > 
but  I  hear  it  diftant  far.  The  ftreani  of  tiie  valley  murmurs ;  but  its  murmur  is  ful- 
len  and  fad.  From  the  tree  at  ihe  grave  of  the  dead  the  long-howling  owl  is 
heard.  I  fee  a  dim  form  on  the  plain  1  It  is  a  ghoft  !  it  fades,  it  flies.  Some  fu- 
neral Ihall  pafs  this  way  ;  the  meteor  marks  the  path. 

The  diftant  dog  is  howling  from  the  hut  of  the  hill.  The  flag  lies  on  the 
mountain  mofs:  the  hind  is  at  his  fide.  She  hears  the  wind  in  his  branchy  horns. 
She  ftarts,  but  lies  again. 

The  roc  is  in  the  cleft  of  the  rock;  the  heath-cock's  head  is  beneath  his  wing. 
No  beaft,  no  bird  is  abroad,  but  the  owl  and  the  howling  fox.  She  on  a  leaileis 
tree :    he  in  a  cloud  on  the  hill. 

Dark,  panting,  trembling,  fad  the  traveller  has  loft  his  way.  Through  fhrubs, 
through  thorns,  he  goes,  along  the  gurgling  rill.  He  fears  the  rock  and  the  fen. 
He  fears  the  gholl  of  night.  The  old  tree  groans  to  the  blsft  ;  the  falling  branch 
refounds.  .The  wind  drives  the  withered  burs,  clung  together,  along  the  graf».  It 
■is  the  light  tread  of  a  ghoft !  He  trembles  amidft  the  night. 

Dark,  dulky,  howling  is  night,  cloudy,  windy,  and  full  of  ghofls !  The  dead 
are  ;ibroad  I  my  friends,  receive  me  from  the  night. 

SECOND  BARD. 

The  wind  is  up.  The  (liower  defcends.  The  fpirit  of  the  mountain  flirieks. 
Woods  fall  from  high.  Windows  flap.  The  growing  rivers  roar.  The  traveller 
attempts  the  ford.  Hark  that  fliriek  !  he  dies :  The  ftorm  drives  the  horfe  from 
the  hill,  the  goat,  the  lowing  cow.  They  tremble  as  drives  the  ftiower,  befide  the 
niouldciing  bank,  • 

The  hunter  ftarts  from  fleep,  in  his  lonely  hut;  he  wakes  the  fire  decayed.  His 
wet  do_^s  fmoke  around  him.  He  fills  ihe  chinks  with  heath.  Loud  roar  two 
mountain  ihcams  which  meet  befide  his  booth. 

Sad 


A    P  O  E  M;  Sg 

forth  their  burning  fouls,  and  the  firing  anfwered  to  their 
voice.  The  joy  of  Croma  was  great :  for  peace  returned 
to  the  land.  The  night  came  on  with  filence  ;  the  morn- 
ino-  returned  with  joy.    No  foe  came  in  darknefs,  with 

M  his 

Sad  on  the  fide  of  a  hl!l  the  wandering  flicpherd  fits.  The  tree  refounds  above 
him.  The  Iheam  roars  down  the  rock.  He  waits  for  the  rifing  moon  to  guide 
him  to  his  home. 

Ghofls  ride  on  the  fiorm  to-night.  Sweet  is  their  voice  between  the  fqualls  of 
wind.     Their  fongs  are  of  other  worlds. 

The  rain  is  part.  The  dry  wind  blows.  Streams  roar,  and  windows  flap.  'Cold 
drops  fall  from  the  roof.  I  fee  the  ftarry  fky.  But  the  fliower  gathers  again.  The 
weit  is  gloomy  and  dark.  Night  is  flormy  and  difmal;  receive  me,  my  friends, 
from  night. 

THIRD  BARD. 

The  wind  ftill  founds  befween  the  hills ;  and  whifllcs  through  the  grafs  of  the 
rock.  The  firs  fall  from  their  place.  The  turfy  hut  is  torn.  The  clouds,  divi- 
ded, fly  over  the  fky,  and  fliew  the  burning  flars.  The  meteor,  token  of  death  I 
flics  fparkling  through  the  gloom.  It  refts  on  the  hill.  1  fee  the  withered  fern, 
the  dark-browed  rock,  the  fallen  oak.  Who  is  that  in  his  flirowd  beneath  the  tree, 
by  the  ftream  ? 

The  waves  dark-tumble  on  the  lake,  and  lafli  its  locky  fides.  The  boat  is  brim- 
full  in  the  cove ;  the  oars  on  the  rocking  tide.  A  maid  fits  fad  befide  the  rock,  and 
eyes  the  rolling  ftream.  Her  lover  promifed  to  come.  She  faw  his  boat,  when  yec 
it  was  light,  on  the  lake.  Is  this  his  broken  boat  on  the  fhoie?  Are  thefe  his 
groans  on  the  wind  ? 

Hark!  the  hail  rattles  around.  The  fiakv  fnow  defcends.  The  tops  of  the  hilli 
are  white.  The  flormy  winds  abate.  Various  is  the  night  and  cold  ;  receive  me, 
my  friends,  from  night. 

FOURTH  BARD. 

Night  is  calm  and  fair:  blue,  ftarry,  fettled  is  night.  The  winds,  with  the 
clouds,  are  gone.  They  fink  behind  the  hill.  The  moon  is  up  on  the  mountain. 
Trees  gliPrer:  flieams  fliine  on  the  rock.  Bright  rolls  the  fettled  lake;  bright  the 
flream  of  the  vale. 

I  fee  the  trees  overturned  ;  the  fliocks  of  corn  on  the  plain.  The  wakeful  hind 
rebuilds  the  fliocks,  and  whiflles  on  the  diftant  field. 

Calm,  fettled,  fair  is  night  I  Who  comes  from  the  place  of  the  dead?  That 
form  with  the  robe  of  fnow  ;  white  arms  and  dark-brown  hair !  It  is  the  daughter 
of  the  chief  of  the  people :  flic  that  lately  fell !  Come,  let  us  view  thee,  O  mardi 
thou  that  hafl:  been  the  delight  of  heroes !  The  blafl.  drives  the  phantom  away  ; 
white,  \yiihout  form,  it  afcends  the  hill. 

The  breezes  drive  the  blue  mift  flowly  over  the  narrow  vale.  It  rifes  on  the 
hill,  and  joins  its  head  to  heaven.  Night  is  fettled,  calm,  blue,  flany,  bright  witU 
the  moon.    Receive  me  not,  my  friends,  for  lovely  is  the  night, 

FIFTH  BARD. 

Night  IS  calm,  but  dreary.  The  moon  is  in  a  cloud  jnthe  wefl.  Slow  moves 
that  pale  beam  along  the  fliaded  hill.  The  diftant  wave  is  heard.  The  torrent 
murmurs  on  the  rock.  The  cock  is  heard  from  the  booth.  More  than  half  the 
nioht  is  pad.  The  houfe-wife,  groping  in  the  gloom,  rekindles  the  fettled  fire. 
The  hunter  thinks  that  day  approaches,  and  calls  his  bounding  do<is.  He  afcends 
the  hill  and  whiflles  on  his  way.  A  blafl  removes  the  cloud.  He  fees  the  flarry 
plough  01  ihe  north.    Much  of  the  night  is  to  pafs.     He  nods  by  the  mofly  rock. 

Hark  \ 


90  C     R    O     M     A. 

his  glittering  fpear.    The  joy  of  Croma  was  great,  for  the 
gloomy  Rothmar  had  fallen  ! 

I  RAisiD  my  voice  for  Fovar-owmo,  when  they  laid 
the  chief  in  earth.  The  aged  Crothar  was  there,  but  his 
figh  was  not  heard.  He  fearched  for  the  wound  of  his 
fon,  and  found  it  in  his  bread.  Joy  rofe  in  the  face  of 
the  aged.  He  came  and  fpoke  to  Offian.  "  King  of 
fpears !"  he  faid,  "  my  fon  has  not  fallen  without  his 
fame.  The  young  warrior  did  not  fly  ;  but  met  death, 
as  he  went  forward  in  his  ftrength.  Happy  are  they  who 
die  in  youth,  when  their  renown  is  heard  !  The  feeble 
will  not  behold  them  in  the  hall  ;  or  fmile  at  their  trem- 
bling hands.  Their  memory  fliall  be  honoured  in  fong  ; 
the  young  tear  of  the  virgin  will  fall.  But  the  aged  wi- 
ther away,  by  degrees  :  the  fame  of  their  youth,  while 
yet  they  live,  is  all  forgot.  They  fall  in  fecret.  The  figh 
of  their  fon  is  not  heard.  Joy  is  around  their  tomb  ;  the 
flone  of  their  fame  is  placed  without  a  tear.  Happy  are 
they  who  die  in  youth,  when  their  renown  is  around 
them  !" 

Hark!  the  wlmlwind  is  in  the  wood!  a  low  murmur  in  the  vale!  It  is  the  migli- 
ty  army  of  the  dead  reiurning  ficm  the  air. 

The  moon  reRs  bi;hind  the  hill.  The  beam  is  dill  on  that  lofty  rock.  Long  are 
the  fliadows  of  the  trees.  Now  it  is  dark  over  all.  Night  is  dreary,  filent,  and 
dark  J  receive  me,  my  friends,  from  night. 

THE  CHIEF. 

Let  clouds  reft  on  the  hills ;  fpirits  fly,  and  travellers  fear.  Let  tiie  winds  of  the 
woods  arife,  the  founding  florms  defcend.  Roar  fireams  and  windows  Hap,  and 
green  winged  meteors  fly  ;  rife  the  pale  moon  from  behind  her  hills,  or  cnclole 
her  head  in  clouds;  night  isalike  to  me,  blue,  flormy,  or  f^loomy  the  fky.  Night 
flies  b<  fo;e  the  beam,  when  it  is  poured  on  the  hill.  The  young  day  returns  from 
his  clouds,  but  we  return  no  more. 

Where  are  our  chiefs  of  old  ?  Where  our  kings  of  mighty  name  ?  The  fields  ol 
their  battles  are  fi'ent.  Scarce  their  molly  tombs  remain.  We  Ihall  alio  be  loigot. 
This  loftv  houf.;  ihall  fall.  Our  fons  ihall  not  behold  the  ruin  in  grafs.  They  Ihall 
afk  of  tlie  a^^ed,   "  Where  flood  the  walls  of  our  fathers?" 

Raife  the  long,  and  flrike  the  harp;  lend  round  the  ihells  of  joy.  Sulpcnd  a 
hundred  tapers  on  high.  Youths  and  maids  begin  the  dance.  Let  lome  grey  bard 
be  near  me  to  tell  the  deeds  of  other  times;  of  kings  renowned  in  our  land,  ol 
chiefs  we  behold  no  more.  Thus  let  the  night  pafs  until  morning  fliall  appear  ii> 
our  halls.  Then  l^t  the  bow  be  at  hand,  the  dogs,  the  youths  of  the  chacc.  We 
fliall  afcend  the  hill  with  day,  and  awake  the  deer. 


CALTHON 


CALTHON  AND  COLM AL : 


A 


POEM, 


ARGUMENT. 

THIS  piece,  as  many  more  of  OiTian's  compofitions,  is  addieffed  to  one  of  the  fiiR 
Chriftian  miflionaries.  The  ftory  of  the  poem  is  handed  down,  by  tradition, 
thus.  In  the  country  of  the  Britons  between  the  walls,  two  chiefs  lived  in  the 
days  of  Fingal,  Dunthalmo,  lord  of  Teutha,  fuppofed  to  be  the  Tweed;  and 
Rathmor,  who  dwelt  at  Clutha,  well  known  to  be  the  river  Clyde,  Rathmor 
was  not  more  renowned  for  his  generofity  and  hofpitality,  than  Dunthalmo  was 

,  infamous  for  his  cruelty  and  ambition.  Dunthalmo,  through  envy,  or  on  account 
offome  private  feuds,  which  fublifted  between  the  families,  murdered  Rathmor 
at  a  feaft;  but  being  afterwards  touched  with  lemorfe,  he  educated  the  two  fons 
of  Rathraor,  Calthon  and  Colmar,  in  his  own  houle.  They  growing  up  to 
man's  eflate,  dropped  forae  hints  that  they  intended  to  revenge  the  death  of  their 
father,  upon  which  Dunthalmo  {liut>them  up  in  two  caves  on  the  banks  of  Teu- 
tha, intending  to  take  them  off  privately.  Colmal,  the  daughter  of  Dunthalmo, 
who  wasfecretly  in  love  with  Calthon,  helped  him  to  make  his  efcape  from  pri- 
son, and  fled  with  him  to  Fingal,  difguifed  in  the  habit  of  a  young  warrior,  and 
implored  his  aid  againft  Dunthalmo.  Fingal  fent  OiTian  with  three  hundred 
men,  to  Colmar's  relief.  Dunthalmo  having  previoufly  murdered  Colmar,  came 
to  a  battle  with  Offian;  but  he  was  killed  by  that  hero,  and  his  army  totally 
defeated. 

Calthon  married  Colmal,  his  deliverer:  and  Offian  returned  to  Movvcn, 


CALTHON  AND  COLMAL: 


P  O  E  M. 

PLEASANT  is  the  voice  of  thy  fong,  thou  loiieiy 
dweller  of  the  rock.  It  comes  on  the  found  of  the 
dream,  along  the  narrow  vale.  My  foul  awakes,  O  flran- 
ger  !  in  the  midft  of  my  hall.  I  ftretch  my  hand  to  the 
fpear,  as  in  the  days  of  other  years.  I  ftretch  my  hand, 
but  it  is  feeble  ;  and  the  figh  of  my  bofom  grows.  Wilt 
thou  not  nilen,  fon  of  the  rock,  to  the  fong  of  Offian  ? 
My  foul  is  full  of  other  times  ;  the  joy  of  my  youth  re- 
turns. Thus  the  fun  appears  in  the  weft,  after  the  fteps 
of  his  brightnefs  have  moved  behind'  a  itorm :  the  green 
hills  lift  their  dewy  heads  ;  the  blue  ftreams  rejoice  in  the 
vale.  The  aged  hero  comes  forth  on  his  ftaft;  his  grey 
hair  glitters  in  the  beam.  Doft  thou  not  behold,  fon  of 
the  rock,  a  Ihield  in  Oflian's  hall  ^  It  is  marked  with  the 
ftrokes  of  battle  ;  and  the  brightnefs  of  its  bofles  has 
failed.  That  ftiield  the  great  Dunthalmo  bore,  the  chief 
of  ftreamy  Teutha.  Dunthalmo  bore  it  in  battle,  before 
he  fell  by  Offian's  fpear.  Liften,  fon  of  the  rock,  to  the 
tale  of  other  years  ! 

Rathmor  was  a  chief  of  Glutha.  The  feeble  dwelt  in 
his  hall.  The  gates  of  Rathmor  v/ere  never  ftiut ;  his 
feaft  was  already  fpread.  The  fons  of  the  ftranger  came. 
They  bleffed  the  generous  chief  of  Clutha.  Bards  raifed 
the  fong,  and  touched  the  harp  :  joy  brightened  on  the 
face  of  the  fad  !  Dunthalmo  came,  in  his  pride,  and  rufli- 
ed  into  the  combat  of  Rathmor.  The  chief  of  Clutha 
overcame:  the  rage  of  Dunthalmo  rofe.  He  camxe,  by 
night,  with  his  warriors  ;  the  mighty  R.athmor  fell.  He 
fell  in  his  halls,  where  his  feaft  was  often  fpread  for  ftran- 
gers. 

CoLMAR  and  Calthon  v;ere  young,  the  fons  of  car-borne 
Rathmor.  They  came,  in  the  joy  of  youth,  into  their  fa- 
ther's 


94 


CALTHON  AND  COLMAL 


ther's  hall.  They  behold  him  in  his  blood  ;  their  burfling 
tears  defcend.  The  foul  of  Dunthalmo  melted,  when  he 
faw  the  children  of  youth.  He  brought  them  to  Alteu- 
tha's*  wails  ;  they  grew  in  the  houfe  of  their  foe.  They 
bent  the  bow  in  his  prefence  ;  and  came  forth  to  his  wars. 
They  faw  the  fallen  walls  of  their  fathers ;  they  faw  the 
green  thorn  in  the  hall.  Their  tears  ruflied  forth  in  fe- 
cret.  At  times,  their  faces  were  fad.  Dunthalmo  beheld 
their  grief :  his  darkening  foul  defigned  their  death.  He 
clofed  them  in  two  caves,  on  the  echoing  banks  of  Teutha. 
The  fun  did  not  come  there  with  his  beams  ;  nor  the 
moon  of  heaven  by  night.  The  fons  of  Rathmor  remain- 
ed in  darknefs,  and  forefaw  their  death. 

The  daughter  of  Dunthalmo  v/ept  in  filence,  the  fair- 
haired,  blue-eyed  Colmalf.  Her  eye  had  rolled  in  fecret 
on  Calthon  ;  his  lovelinefs  fwelled  in  her  foul.  Shetrem- 
bled  for  her  warrior  ;  but  what  could  Colmal  do  ?  Her 
arm  could  not  lift  the  fpear  ;  nor  was  the  fword  formed 
for  her  fide.  Her  white  breaft  never  rofe  beneath  a  mail. 
Neither  v^^as  her  eye  the  terror  of  heroes.  What  canfL 
thou  do,  O  Colmal !  for  the  falling  chief  ?  Her  fteps  are 
unequal  ;  her  hair  is  loofe  :  her  eye  looks  wildly  through 
her  tears.  She  came,  by  night,  to  the  hall||.  She  armed 
her  lovely  form  in  fteel ;  the  fteel  of  a  young  warrior, 
who  fell  in  the  firft  of  his  battles.  She  came  to  the  cave 
of  Calthon,  and  loofed  the  thong  from  his  hands. 

"  Arise,  fon  of  Rathmor,"  fhe  faid,  "  arife,  the  night 
is  dark  !  Let  us  fly  to  the  king  of  Selma§,  chief  of  fallen 
Clutha  !  I  am  the  fon  of  Lamgal,  who  dwelt  in  thy  fa- 
ther's hall.  I  heard  of  thy  dark  dwelling  in  the  cave,  and 
my  foul  arofe.     Arife,  fon  of  Rathmor,  arife,  the  night  is 

dark !" 

*  Al-teutha,  or  rather  Balteutha,  the  towv  of  Tweed,  the  name  of  Dunthalmo's 
feat.    It  is  obfervable  that  all  the  names  in  this  poem,  are  derived  from  the  Galic  ■ 
language  ;  which  is  a  proof  that  it  was  once  the  univeifal  laaguage  of  the  whole 
ifland. 

f  Caol-inhal,  a  woman  with  fmall  eye-brows;  fmall  eye-brows  were  a  diflin- 
guifhing  part  of  beauty  in  Offian's  time :  and  he  feldom  fails  to  give  them  to  the  fine 
women  of  his  poems. 

II  That  is,  the  hall  where  the  arms  taken  from  enemies  were  hung  up  as  trophies. 
Oflian  is  very  careful  to  make  his  ftories  probable :  he  makes  Colmal  put  on  the 
arms  of  a  youth  killed  in  his  firft  battle,  as  more  proper  for  a  young  woman,  who 
cannot  bt;  fuppofed  ftrong  enough  to  carry  the  armour  of  a  full-grown  warrior, 

^  Fingal. 


A     POEM.  95 

dark  1"  "  Bleft  voice,"  replied  the  chief,  "  comejfl  thou 
from  the  clouds  to  Calthon  ?  The  ghofls  of  his  fathers  have 
often  defcended  in  his  dreams,  fmce  the  fun  has  retired 
from  his  eyes,  and  darknefs  has  dwelt  around  him.  Or 
art  thou  the  fon  of  Lamgai,  the  chief  I  often  faw  in  Ciu- 
tha  ?  But,  fliall  I  fly  to  Fingal,  and  Colmar  my  brother 
low  ?  Will  I  fly  to  Morven,  and  the  hero  clofed  in  night  ? 
No :  give  me  that  fpear,  fon  of  Lamgai  j  Calthon  will 
defend  his  brother !" 

"  A  THOUSAND  warriors,"  replied  the  maid,  "  flretch 
their  fpears  round  car-borne  Colmar.  What  can  Calthon 
do  againft  a  hofl;  fo  great  ?  Let  us  fly  to  the  king  of  Mor- 
ven: he  will  come  with  war.  His  arm  is  (tretched  forth  to 
the  unhappy  ;  the  lightning  of  his  fword  is  round  the 
weak.  Arife,  thou  fon  of  Rathmor;  the  fhadows  will  fly 
away.  Arife,  or  thy  fteps  may  be  feen,  and  thou  mult 
fall  in  youth !" 

The  fighing  hero  rofe;  his  tears  defcend  for  car-borne 
Colmar.  He  came  with  the  maid  to  Selma's  hall;  but  he 
knew  not  that  it  was  Colmal.  The  helmet  covered  her 
lovely  face.  Her  bofom  heaved  beneath  the  fl:eel.  Fingal 
returned  from  the  chace,  and  found  the  lovely  llrangers. 
They  were  like  two  beams  of  light,  in  the  midfl;  of  the 
hall  of  fliells.  The  king  heard  the  tale  of  grief;  and 
turned  his  eyes  around.  A  thoufand  heroes  half-rofe  be- 
fore him ;  claiming  the  war  of  Teutha.  I  came  with  my 
fpear  from  the  hill ;  the  joy  of  battle  rofe  in  my  brcaft  : 
for  the  king  fpoke  to  Ofliian  in  the  midfl:  of  a  thoufand 
chiefs. 

"  Son  of  my  ilrength,"  began -the  king,  "  take  thou 
the  fpear  of  Fingal.  Go  to  Teutha's  rufliing  fl:ream,  and 
fave  the  car-borne  Colmar.  Let  thy  fame  return  before 
thee  like  a  pleafant  gale ;  that  my  foul  may  rejoice  over 
my  fon,  who  renews  the  renown  of  our  fathers.  Offian! 
be  thou  a  ftorm  in  war ;  but  mild  when  the  foe  is  lov/ ! 
It  was  thus  my  fame  arofe^  O  my  fon  ;  be  thou  like  Sel- 
ma's  chief.  When  the  haughty  come  to  my  halls,  my  evcs 
behold  them  not.  But  my  arm  is  ftretched  forth  to  the 
unhappy.    My  fword  defends  the  weak." 

I   R5J0IC£i.f 


9^ 


CALTHON  AND  COLMAL 


I  REJOICED  in  the  words  of  the  king.  I  took  my  rat- 
.  tling  arms.  Diaran  *  rofe  at  my  fide,  and  Dargo  |  king  of 
fpears.  Three  hundred  youths  followed  our  fteps :  the 
lovely  ilrangers  were  at  my  fide.  Dunthalmo  heard  the 
found  of  our  approach.  He  gathered  the  ilrength  of  Teu- 
tha.  He  flood  on  a  hill  with  his  hoft.  They  were  like 
rocks  broken  with  thunder,  when  their  bent  trees  are 
fmoed  and  bare,  and  the  fcreams  of  their  chinks  have  fail- 
ed.  The  ftream  of  Teutha  rolled,  in  its  pride,  before  the 
gloomy  foe.  I  fent  a  bard  to  Dunthalmo,  to  offer  the 
combat  on  the  plain;  but  he  fmiled  in  the  darknefs  of  his 
pride.  His  unfettled  hofl  moved  on  the  hill ;  like  the 
mountain-cloud,  when  the  blaft  has  entered  its  womb,  and 
fcatters  the  curling  gloom  on  every  fide. 

They  brought  Colmar  to  Teutha's  bank,  bound  with 
a  thoufand  thongs.  The  chief  is  fad,  but  flately.  His  eye 
is  on  his  friends  ;  for  we  flood,  in  our  arms,  whilfl  Teu- 
tha's waters  rolled  between.  Dunthalmo  came  with  his 
fpear,  and  pierced  the  hero's  fide  :  he  rolled  on  the  bank 
in  his  blood.     We  heard  his  broken  fighs.     Calthon  rulii- 

ed 

*  Diaran,  father  of  that  Connal  who  was  unfortunately  killed  by  Crimora,  his 
mi  ft  re  is. 

f  Dargo,  the  fon  of  Collath,  is  celebrated  in  other  poems  by  Oflian.  Ke  is  faid 
fo  liave  been  killed  by  a  boar  at  a  hunting  party.  The  lamentation  of  his  mifirefs, 
or  wife,  Mingala,  over  his  body  is  extant;  but  whether  it  is  of  OiTian's  compofiti- 
nn,  1  cannot  determine.  It  is  generally  afcribed  to  him,  and  has  much  of  his  man- 
ner; but  forae  traditions  mention  it  as  an  imitation  by  fome, later  bard.  As  it  has 
fume  Dot'tical  meru,  I  have  fubjoined  it. 

*■  4  ■'HE  ipoufe  of  Dargo  comes  in  tears:  for  Dargo  is  no  more!  The  heroes  figii 
A.  over  Lartho's  chief:  and  what  fliali  fad  Mingala  do?  The  dark  foul  vaniflied 
like  morning  mill,  before  the  king  of  fpears :  but  the  generous  glowed  m  his  pre- 
fence  like  the  morning  ftar. 

Who  was  the  faireft  and  mod  lovely?  Who  but  Goliath's  (lately  fon?  Who  fat 
in  t;he  midft  of  the  wife,  but  Dar,so  of  mighty  deeds  ? 

Thy  hand  touched  the  trembling  harp  :  Thv  voice  was  foft  as  fummer-winds. 
Ah  me  !  what  Ihall  the  heroes  fay  ?  for  Dargo  fell  before  a  bOar.  Pale  is  thy  love- 
ly cheek;  the  look  of  which  was  firm  in  danger!  Why  hart  thou  failed  on  our 
hiil,>,  ihou  fairer  than  the  beams  of  the  fun  ? 

The  daughter  of  Adonfion  was  lovely  in  the  eyes  of  the  valiant;  fhc  waS  lovely 
in  their  eyes,  but  Ihe  chqfe  to  be  the  fpoufe  of  Dargo, 

)5ut  thou  art  alone,  Mingala !  the  night  is  coming  with  its  clouds :  where  is  the 
Led  ot  thy  repofe  ?  Where,  but  in  the  tomb  of  Dargo  ? 

Vi'hv  doil  thou  lift  the  fionc,  O  bard!  Why  do(i  thou  fluU  the  narrow  houfe? 
^lingala's  eyes  are  heavy,  bard  !  She  mart  fleep  with  Dargo. 

Lad  night  I  heard  the  fong  of  joy  in  Lartho's  lofty  hall.  But  filence  dwelt 
around  mv  bed.     Minu;ala  rcih  with  Dargo, 


A    P  O  E  M.  97 

ed  into  the  flream  :  I  bounded  forward  on  my  fpear- 
Teutha's  race  fell  before  us.  Night  came  rolling  down. 
Dunthalmo  refted  on  a  rock,  amidft  an  aged  wood.  The 
rape  of  his  bofom  burned  againft  the  car-borne  Calthon. 
But  Calthon  flood  in  his  grief :  he  mourned  the  fallen 
Colmar  ;  Colmar  llain  in  youth,  before  his  fame  arofe  ! 

I  BADE  the  fong  of  woe  to  rife,  to  footh  the  mournful 
chief ;  but  he  flood  beneath  a  tree,  and  often  threw  his 
fpear  on  earth.  The  humid  eye  of  Colmal  rolled  near  in 
a  fecret  tear  :  flie  forefaw  the  fall  of  Dunthalmo,  or  of 
Clutha's  warlike  chief.  Now  half  the  night  had  paffed 
away.  Silence  and  darknefs  were  on  the  field.  Sleep 
refled  on  the  eyes  of  the  heroes :  Calthon's  fettling  foul 
was  flill.  His  eyes  were  half-clofed  j  but  the  murmur  of 
Teutha  had  not  yet  failed  in  his  ear.  Pale,  and  fliewing 
his  wounds,  the  ghofl  of  Colmar  came :  he  bent  his  head 
over  the  hero,  and  raifed  his  feeble  voice  ! 

"  Sleeps  the  fon  of  Rathmor  in  his  night,  and  his  bro- 
ther low?  Did  we  not  rife  to  the  chace  together?  Purfued 
we  not  the  dark-brown  hinds?  Colmar  v/as  not  forgot  till 
he  fell;  till  death  had  blafled  his  youth.  I  lie  pale  beneath 
the  rock  of  Lona.  O  let  Calthon  rife !  the  morning  comes 
with  its  beams ;  Dunthalmo  will  diflionour  the  fallen." 
He  pafl'ed  away  in  his  blafl.  The  rifmg  Calthon  faw  the 
Heps  of  his  departure.  He  ruflied  in  the  found  of  his 
fleel.  Unhappy  Colmal  rofe.  She  followed  her  hero 
through  night,  and  dragged  her  fpear  behind.  But  when 
Calthon  came  to  Lona's  rock,  he  found  his  fallen  brother. 
The  rage  of  his  bofom  rofe ;  he  ruflied  among  the  foe. 
The  groans  of  death  afcend.  They  clofe  around  the  chief,- 
He  is  bound  in  the  midfl,  and  brought  to  gloomy  Dun- 
thalmo. The  fnout  of  joy  arofe  j  and  the  hills  of  night 
replied. 

I  STARTED  at  the  found  ;  and  took  my  father's  fpear. 
Diaran  rofe  at  my  fide;  and  the  youthful  flrength  of  Dargo> 
We  miffed  the  chief  of  Clutha,  and  our  fouls  were  fad,  I 
dreaded  the  departure  of  my  fame.  The  pride  of  my  va- 
lour rofe  !  "  Sons  of  Pvlorven,"  I  faid,  "  it  is  not  thus  our 
fathers  fought.  They  refled  not  on  the  field  of  ftrangers, 
when  the  foe  was  not  fallen  before  them.    Their  ftrength 

N  v/a? 


98         CALTHON  and  COLMAL. 

was  like  the  eagles  of  heaven;  their  renown  is  in  the  fong. 
But  our  people  fall  by  degrees.  Our  fame  begins  to  de- 
part. What  fhall  the  king  of  Morven  fay,  if  Oihan  con- 
quers not  at  Teutha  ?  Rife  in  your  fteel,  ye  warriors ; 
follow  the  found  of  Offian's  courfe.  He  will  not  return, 
but  renowned,  to  the  echoing  walls  of  Seima." 

Morning  rofe  on  the  blue  waters  of  Teutha.  Colmal 
flood  before  me  in  tears.  She  told  of  the  chief  of  Clutha: 
thrice  the  fpear  fell  from  her  hand.  My  wrath  turned 
againll  the  ftranger ;  for  my  foul  trembled  for  Calthon. 
"  Son  of  the  feeble  hand,"  I  faid,  "  do  Teutha's  warriors 
fi^ht  with  tears?  The  battle  is  not  won  with  grief;  nor 
dwells  the  figh  in  the  foul  of  war.  Go  to  the  deer  of 
Carmun,  to  the  lowing  herds  of  Teutha.  But  leave  thefe 
arms,  thou  fon  of  fear.    A  warrior  may  lift  them  in  fight. '^ 

I  TORE  the  mail  from  her  fhoulders.  Her  fnowy  breaft 
appeared.  She  bent  her  blufliing  face  to  the  ground.  I 
looked  in  filence  to  the  chiefs.  The  fpear  fell  from  my 
hand  ;  the  figh  of  my  bofom  rofe !  But  when  I  heard  the 
name  of  the  maid,  my  crowding  tears  rufhed  down.  I 
bleifed  the  lovely  beam  of  youth,  and  bade  the  battle 
move  ! 

Why,  fon  of  the  rock,  fhould  OfEan  tell  how  Teutha's 
warriors  died  ?  They  are  now  forgot  in  their  land  ;  their 
tombs  are  not  found  on  the  heath.  Years  came  on  with 
their  florms.  The  green  mounds  are  mouldered  away. 
Scarce  is  the  grave  of  Dunthalmo  feen,  or  the  place  where 
he  fell  by  the  fpear  of  Ofiian.  Some  grey  warrior,  half 
bliixd.with  age,  fitting  by  night  at  the  flaming  oak  of  the 
hall,  .tells  now  my  deeds  to  his  fons,  and  the  fall  of  the 
dark  Dunthalmo.  The  faces  of  youth  bend  fidelong  to- 
wards his  voice.  Surprize  and  joy  burn  in  their  eyes !  I 
found  Calthon  bound  to  an  oak;  my  fword  cut  the  thongs 
from  his  hands.  I  gave  him  the  white-bofomcd  Colmal. 
They  dwelt  in  the  halls  of  Teutha, 


THE 


THE 


A  R    OF    C  A  R  O  S: 


POEM. 


ARGUMENT.^ 

CAROS  is  probably  the  noted  ufurper  Caraufius,  by  birth  a  Menapian,  who  af- 
fumed  the  purple  in  the  year  284  :  and,  feizing  on  Britain,  defeated  the  emperor 
Maximian  Herculius  in  feveral  naval  engagements,  which  gives  propriety  to  his 
being  called  in  this  poem  the  king  ofjhips.  He  repaired  Agricola's  wall,  in  or- 
der to  obftrufl  the  incurfions  of  the  Caledonians;  and  when  he  was  employed  in 
that  work,  it  appears  he  was  attacked  by  a  party  under  the  command  of  Ofcar 
the  fon  of  Oflian.  This  battle  is  the  foundation  of  the  prefent  poem,  which  is 
addrefled  to  Malvina  the  dauo,hter  of  Tofcar. 


The  war  of    CAROS 


P  O  E  M. 

BRING,  daughter  of  Tofcar,  bring  the  harp  !  the 
light  of  the  fong  rifes  in  Oilian's  foul !  It  is  like  the 
field,  when  darknefs  covers  the  hills  around,  and  the  fha- 
dow  grows  flowly  on  the  plain  of  the  fun.  I  behold  my 
fon,  O  Malvina,  near  the  molTy  rock  of  Crona*.  But 
it  is  the  mill  of  the  defart,  tinged  with  the  beam  of  the 
weft !  Lovely  is  the  mift  that  afl'umes  the  form  of  Ofcar  1 
turn  from  it,  ye  winds,  when  ye  roar  on  the  fide  of  Ardven  ! 

Who  comes  towards  my  fon,  with  the  murmur  of  a 
fong  ?  His  ftaff  is  in  his  hand,  his  grey  hair  loofe  on  the 
wind.  Surly  joy  lightens  his  face.  He  often  looks  back 
to  Caros.  It  is  Ryno  |  of  fongs,  he  that  went  to  view  the 
foe.  "  What  does  Caros  king  of  fhips  ?"  faid  the  fon  of 
the  now  mournful  Offian  ;  "  fpreads  he  the  wings  |j  of  his 
pride,  bard  of  the  times  of  old  ?"  "  He  fpreads  them, 
Ofcar,'*  replied  the  bard,  "  but  it  is  behind  his  gathered 
heap§.  He  looks  over  his  ftones  with  fear.  He  beholds 
thee  terrible,  as  the  ghoft  of  night,  that  rolls  the  wave  to 
his  fliips  1" 

"  Go,  thou  firft  of  my  bards,"  fays  Ofcar,  "  take  the 
fpear  of  Fingal.  Fix  a  flame  on  its  point.  Shake  it  to  the 
winds  of  heaven.  Bid  him,  in  fongs,  to  advance,  and 
leave  the  roiling  of  his  wave.  Tell  to  Caros  that  I  long 
for  battle ;  that  my  bow  is  weary  of  the  chace  of  Cona. 
Tell  him  the  mighty  are  not  here ;  and  that  my  arm  is 
young." 

He  went  with  the  murmur  of  fongs.  Ofcar  reared  his 
voice  on  high.    It  reached  his  heroes  on  Ardven,  like  the 

noife 

*  Crona  is  the  name  of  a  fmall  ftream  which  runs  into  the  Carron. 
t  Ryno  is  often  mentioned  in  the  ancient  poetry.    He  feems  to  have  been  a  bard 
of  the  firft  rank,  in  the  days  cf  Fingal. 
II  The  Roman  eagle. 
^  Agricola's  wall,  which  Caraufms  repaired. 


102  The   war   of   CAROS: 

nolfe  of  a  cave;  when  the  fea  of  To^^orma  rolls  before  it, 
and  its  trees  meet  the  roarino;  winds.  They  gather  round 
my  fon  like  the  ftreams  of  the  hill;  when,  after  rain,  they 
roll  in  the  pride  of  their  courfe.  Ryno  came  to  the  mighty 
Caros.  He  ilruck  his  flaminoj  fpear.  "  Come  to  the  bat- 
tle of  Ofcar,  O  thou  that  fitteit  on  the  rolling  of  waves. 
Fingal  is  diflant  far;  he  hears  the  fong  of  b^rds  in  Morven: 
the  wind  of  his  hall  is  in  his  hair.  His  terrible  fpear  is  at 
his  fide;  his  {hield  that  is  like  the  darkened  moon!  Come 
to  the  battle  of  Ofcar  ;  the  hero  is  alone  !'■* 

He  came  net  over  the  dreamy  Ccjrun  *.  The  bard  re- 
turned with  his  fong.  Grey  night  grov^^s  dim  on  Crona. 
The  feaft  of  fiiells  is  fpread.  A  hundred  oaks  burn  to  the 
wind  ;  faint  light  gleams  ever  the  heath.  The  gboRs  of 
Ardven  pafs  through  the  beam,  and  fliew  their  dim  and 
diftant  forms.  Comala  -f-  is  half  unfeen  on  her  meteor  ; 
Hidalian  is  fullen  and  dim,  like  the  darkened  moon  be- 
hind the  mill  of  night. 

"  Why  art  thou  fad?"  faid  Ryno;  for  he  alone  beheld 
the  chief.  "  Why  art  thou  fad,  Hidalian  ?  halt  thcu 
not  received  thy  fame  ?  The  fongs  of  Offian  have  been 
heard  ;  thy  ghoft  has  brightened  in  wind,  when  thou 
didft  bend  from  thy  cloud,  to  hear  the  fong  of  Morven's 
bard  !'*  "  And  do  thine  eyes,"  faid  Ofcar,  "  behold  the 
chief,  like  the  dim  meteor  of  night  ?  Say,  Ryno,  fay, 
how  fell  Hidalian,  the  renowned  in  the  days  of  my  fa- 
thers ?  His  name  remains  on  the  rocks  of  Cona.  I  have 
often  feen  the  dreams  of  his  hills !" 

Fingal,  replied  the  bard,  drove  Hidalian  from  his 
wars.  The  king's  foul  was  fad  for  Comala,  and  his  eyes 
could  not  behold  the  chief.  Lonely,  fad  along  the  heath 
he,  fiowly,  moved,  with  filent  fteps.  His  arms  hang  dif- 
ordered  on  his  fide.  His  hair  flies  loofe  from  his  brow. 
The  tear  is  in  his  down-call  eyes;  a  figh  half-filent  in  his 
breafl !  Three  days  he  ftrayed  unfeen,  alone,  before  he 
cam.e  to  Lamor's  halls :  the  moify  halls  of  his  fathers,  at 

the 

*  The  river  Carron. 

+  This  is  the  fcene  of  Comala's  death,  which  is  the  fubjeft  of  the  dramatic 
poem.  The  poet  mentions  her  in  this  place,  in  order  to  introduce  the  fequel  of 
Hidallan's  ftory,  who,  on  account  of  her  death,  had  been  expelied  from  the  wars 
of  Fingal. 


A    P  O  E  M.  103 

the  {Iream  of  Balva  **  There  Lamor  fat  alone  beneath  a 
tree ;  for  he  had  fent  his  people  with  Hidallan  to  war. 
The  llream  ran  at  his  feet.  His  grey  head  reded  on  a 
ftaff.  Sightlefs  are  his  aged  eyes.  He  hums  the  fong  of 
other  times.  The  noife  of  Hidallan's  feet  came  to  his  ear: 
he  knew  the  tread  of  his  fon. 

"  Is  the  fon  of  Lamor  returned ;  or  is  it  the  found  of 
his  ghoft?  Haft  thou  fallen  on  the  banks  of  Carun,  fon  of 
the  aged  Lamor  ?  Or,  if  I  hear  the  found  of  Hidallan's 
feet ;  where  are  the  mighty  in  the  war  ?  where  are  my 
people,  Hidallan,  that  were  wont  to  return  with  their 
echoing  fliields?  Have  they  fallen  on  the  banks  of  Carun?'* 

"  No  :  replied  the  fighing  youtk  ;  the  people  of  Lamot 
live.  They  are  renowned  in  war,  my  father;  but  Hidallan 
is  renowned  no  more.  I  muft  fit  alone  on  the  banks  of 
Balva,  when  the  roar  of  the  battle  grows." 

"  But  thy  fathers  never  fat  alone,"  replied  the  rifing 
pride  of  Lamor.  "  They  never  fat  alone  on  the  banks  of 
Balva,  when  the  roar  of  battle  rofe.  Doft  thou  not  behold 
that  tomb  ?  My  eyes  difcern  it  not :  there  refts  the  noble 
Garmallon,  who  never  fled  from  war !  Come,  thou  renown- 
ed in  battle,  he  fays,  come  to  thy  father's  tomb.  How  am 
I  renowned,  Garmallon  ?  my  fon  has  fled  from  war  1" 

"  King  of  the  ftreamy  Balva!"  faid  Hidalkn  with  a 
figh,  "  why  doft  thou  torment  my  foul  ?  Lamor,  I  never 
fled.  Fing:al  was  fad  for  Comala  ;  he  denied  his  wars  to 
Hidallan.  Go  to  the  grey  ftreams  of  thy  land,  he  faid  : 
moulder  like  a  leaflefs  oak,  which  the  winds  have  bent 
over  Balva,  never  more  to  grow  !" 

"  And  muft  I  hear,"  Lamor  replied,  "  the  lonely  tread 
of  Hidallan's  feet  ?  When  thoufands  are  renowned  in  bat- 
tle, fliall  he  bend  over  my  grey  ftreams  ?  Spirit  of  the 
noble  Garmallon  !  carry  Lamor  to  his  place:  his  eyes  are 
dark  ;   his  foul  is  fad  ;  his  fon  has  loft  his  fame  !" 

"  Where,"  faid  the  youth,  "  ihall  I  fearchfor  fame  to 
gladden  the  foul  cf  Lamor  ?  From  whence  Ihali  I  return 
with  renown,  that  the  found  of  ray  arms  may  be  pleafsjit 

in 

*  This  is  perhaps  that  fraall  fiream  flill  retaining  the  natre  cf  Balva,  %vhich  runs 
thro'jah  the  romantic  valley  of  Glentivar  in  Stirlingfliire.  Balva  fignifies  a  Jiioit 
Jircam;  and  Glentivar,  the  fequejlcred  vale. 


I04  The   WAR   of   CAROS  : 

in  his  ear  ?  If  I  go  to  the  chace  of  hinds,  my  name  will  not 
be  heard.  Lamor  will  not  feel  my  dogs,  with  his  hands, 
glad  at  my  arrival  from  the  hill.  He  will  not  enquire  of 
his  mountains,  or  of  the  dark-brown  deer  of  his  defarts  !'* 

"  I  MUST  fall,"  faid  Lamor,  "  like  a  leaflefs  oak  :  it 
grew  on  a  rock  !  it  was  overturned  by  the  winds  !  My 
ghoft  will  be  feen  on  my  hills,  mournful  for  my  young 
Hidallan.  Will  not  ye,  ye  mills,  as  ye  rife,  hide  him  from 
my  fight  ?  My  fon !  go  to  Lamor's  hall  :  there  the  arms 
of  our  fathers  hang.  Bring  the  fword  of  Garmallon ;  he 
took  it  from  a  foe  !" 

He  went  and  brought  the  fword  with  all  its  fludded 
thongs.  He  gave  it  to  his  father.  The  grey-haired  hero 
felt  the  point  with  his  hand. 

"  My  fon  !  lead  me  to  Garmallon' s  tomb  :  it  rifes  be- 
fide  that  ruftling  tree.  The  long  grafs  is  withered  ;  I 
hear  the  breezes  whiftling  there.  A  little  fountain  mur- 
murs near,  and  fends  its  water  to  Balva.  There  let  me 
reft  ;  it  is  noon  :  the  fun  is  on  our  fields  !" 

He  led  him  to  Garmallon's  tomb.  Lamor  pierced  the 
fide  of  his  fon.  They  lleep  together :  their  ancient  halls 
moulder  away.  Ghofls  are  feen  there  at  noon  :  the  valley 
is  filent,  and  the  people  fliun  the  place  of  Lamor. 

"  Mournful  is  thy  tale,"  faid  Ofcar,  "  fon  of  the 
times  of  old  !  My  foul  fighs  for  Hidallan ;  he  fell  in  the 
days  of  his  youth.  He  flies  on  the  blafl  of  the  defart,  his 
wandering  is  in  a  foreign  land.  Sons  of  the  echoing 
Morven  !  draw  near  to  the  foes  of  Fingal.  Send  the 
night  away  in  fongs  ;  watch  the  flrength  of  Caros.  Ofcar 
goes  to  the  people  of  other  times  ;  to  the  fhades  of  filent 
Ardven ;  where  his  fathers  fit  dim  in  their  clouds,  and 
behold  the  future  war.  And  art  thou  there,  Hidallan, 
like  a  half-extinguiilied  meteor  ?  Come  to  my  fight,  in 
thy  forrow,  chief  of  the  winding  Balva  1" 

The  heroes  move  with  their  fongs.  Ofcar  flowly  afcends 
the  hill.  The  meteors  of  night  fat  on  the  heath  before 
him.  A  diflant  torrent  faintly  roars.  Unfrequent  blafi:s 
rufli  through  aged  oaks.  The  half-enlightened  moon  finks 
dim  and  red  behind  her  hill.  Feeble  voices  are  heard  on 
the  heath.    Ofcar  drev/  his  fword. 

«  Come," 


A    P  O  E  M.  105 

"  Come,"  faid  the  hero,  "  O  ye  ghofls  of  my  fathers  1 
ye  that  fought  againft  the  kings  of  the  world  !  Tell  me 
the  deeds  of  future  times  ;  and  your  converfe  in  your 
caves  ;  when  you  talk  together,  and  behold  your  fons  in 
the  fields  of  the  brave." 

Trenmor  came  from  his  hill,  at  the  voice  of  his  niig-h- 
ty  fon.  A  cloud,  like  the  ileed  of  the  ftranger,  fupported 
his  airy  limbs.  His  robe  is  of  the  mill  of  Lano,  that  brings 
death  to  the  people.  His  fword  is  a  green  meteor  half- 
extinguiihed.  His  face  is  without  form,  and  dark.  He 
fighed  thrice  over  the  hero  :  thrice  the  winds  of  night 
roared  around  !  Many  were  his  words  to  Ofcar  ;  but  they 
only  came  by  halves  to  our  ears  :  they  v/ere  dark  as  the 
tales  of  other  times,  before  the  light  of  the  fong  arofe.  He 
flowly  vanifhed,  like  a  mift  that  melts  on  the  funny  hill. 
It  was  then,  O  daughter  of  Toicar,  my  fon  began  firft  to 
be  fad.  He  forefaw  the  fall  of  his  race.  At  times,  he  waS 
thoughtful  and  dark  ;  like  the  fun  when  he  carries  a  cloud 
on  his  face,  but  again  he  looks  forth  from  his  darknefs 
on  the  green  hills  of  Cona. 

Oscar  paifed  the  night  among  his  fathers,  grey  morn- 
ing met  him  on  Carun's  banks.  A  green  vale  furrounded 
a  tomb  which  rofe  in  the  times  of  old.  Little  hills  lift 
their  heads  at  a  diltance ;  and  flretch  their  old  trees  to 
.-he  wind.  The  warriors  of  Caros  fat  there,  for  they  had 
palTed  the  dream  by  night.  They  appeared,  like  the  trunks 
of  aged  pines,  to  the  pale  light  of  the  morning.  Ofcar 
ftood  at  the  tomb,  and  raifed  thrice  his  terrible  voice. 
The  rocking  hills  echoed  around;  the  ftarting  roes  bound- 
ed away ;  and  the  trembling  ghofts  of  the  dead  fled, 
fhrieking  on  their  clouds.  So  terrible  was  the  voice  of 
my  fon,  when  he  called  his  friends ! 

A  THOUSAND  fpears  rofe  around  ;  the  people  of 
Caros  rofe.  Why,  daughter  of  Tofcar,  why  that  tear  ? 
My  fon,  though  alone,  is  brave.  Ofcar  is  like  a  beam  of 
the  ll^:y ;  he  turns  around,  and  the  people  fall.  His  hand 
is  the  arm  of  a  ghoft,  when  he  itretches  it  from  a  cloud; 
the  reft  of  his  thin  form  is  unfeen ;  but  the  people  die  in, 
the  vale!  My  fon  beheld  the  approach  of  the  foe;  he  ftood 
in  the  fileut  darknefs  of  his  ftrength.    "  Am  !  alone,  faid 

O  Ofcar, 


io6  The   WAR   of   CAROS. 

Ofcar,  In  the  midfl  of  a  thoufand  foes  ?  Many  a  fpear  is 
there!  many  a  darkly-rolling  eye !  Shall  I  fly  to  Ardven? 
But  did  my  fathers  ever  fly  ?  The  mark  of  their  arm  is  in 
a  thousand  battles.  Ofcar  too  fliall  be  renowned  1  Come, 
ye  dim  ghoits  of  my  fathers,  and  behold  my  deeds  in 
war !  I  may  fall ;  but  I  will  be  renowned  like  the  race  of 
echoing  Morven.'*  He  Itood,  growing  in  his  place,  like 
a  flood  in  a  narrow  vale!  The  battle  came,  but  they  fell: 
bloody  was  the  fword  of  Ofcar  ! 

The  noife  reached  his  people  at  Crona;  they  came  like 
a  hundred  Itreams.    The  warriors  of  Caros  fled ;'  Ofcar 
remained  like  a  rock  left  by  the  ebbing  fea.     Now  dark 
and   deep,   with  all   his   fl:eeds.  Cares   rolled  his  might 
along :  the  little  fl:reams  are  loll  in  his  courfe ;  the  earth 
is  rocking  round.    Battle  fpreads  from  v/ing  to  wing :  ten   | 
thouiand  I'words  gleam  at  once  in  the  fi^y.    But  why  ihould  1 
Oflian  fmg  of  battles?  For  never  more  ftiall  my  fteel  fliine   « 
in  war.    I  remember  the  days  of  my  youth  with  grief  ; 
when  I  feel  the  weaknefs  of  my  arm.     Happy  are  they    j 
who  fell  in  their  youth,  in  the  midfl:  of  their  renown!  They  ^ 
have  not  beheld  the  tombs  of  their  friend  ;  or  failed  to 
bend  the  bow  of  their  fl:rength.    Happy  art  thou,  O  Ofcar, 
in  the  midll  of  thy  rufliing  blaft.    Thou  often  goefl;  to  the 
fields  of  thy  fame,  where  Caros  fled  from  thy  lifted  fword. 
Darkness  comes  on    my  foul,  O   fair   daughter    of 
Tofcar  :  I  behold  not  the  form  of  my  fon  at  Carun  ;  nor 
the  figure  of  Ofcar  on  Crona.    The  rufliling  winds  have 
carried  him  far  away ;   and  the  heart  of  his  father  is  fad. 
But  lead  me,  O  Malvina,  to  the  found  of  my  woods  ;  to 
the  roar  of  my  mountain  llreams.    Let  the  chace  be  heard 
on  Cona ;  let  me  think  on  the  days  of  other  years.    And 
•bring  me  the  harp,  O  maid,  that  I  may  touch  it,  when 
the  light  of  my  foul  fiiall  arife.    Be  thou  near,  to  learn  the 
fong;  future  times  fliall  hear  of  me!  The  fons  of  the  feeble 
hereafter  will  lift  the  voice  on  Cona ;  and  looking  up  to 
the  rocks,  fay,  "  Here  Oflian  dwelt."    They  fiiall  admire 
the  chiefs  of  old,  the  race  that  are  no  more !  while  we 
ride  on  our  clouds,  Malvina,  on  the  wings  of  the  roaring- 
winds.    Our  voices  fhali  be  heard,  at  times,  in  the  defart; 
We  fnall  fmg  on  the  breeze  of  the  rock. 

CATHLIN 


CATHLIN  OF  CLUTHA 


O  E  M. 


ARGUMENT. 

AN  adJiefs  to  Malvlna,  the  daughter  of  Tofcar.  The  poet  relates  the  arrival  of 
Cathlin  in  Selma,  to  folicit  aidagainft  Duth-carmor  of  Cluba,  who  had_  killed 
Cathmol,  for  the  fake  of  his  daughter  Lanul.  Fingal  declining  to  make  a  choice 
anaong  his  heroes,  who  were  all  claiming  the  command  of  the  expedition;  they 
retired  each  to  his  hill  of  ghcjls;  to  be  determined  by  dreams.  The  fpirit  of  Tren- 
mor  appears  to  Oflian  and  Ofcar ;  they  fail,  from  the  bay  of  Carmona,  and,  on 
the  fourth  day,  appear  off  the  valley  of  Rath-col,  in  Inis-huna,  where  Duth- 
carmor  had  fixed  his  refidence.  Oflian  difpatches  a  "bard  to  Duth-carmor  to  de- 
mand battle.  Night  comes  on.  The  diftrefs  of  Cathlin  of  Clutha.  Oflian  de- 
volves the  command  on  Ofcar,  who,  apcording  to  the  cuflom  of  the  kings  of 
Moiven,  before  battle,  retired  to  a  neighbouring  hill.  Upon  the  coming  on  of 
day,  the  battle  joins.  Ofcar  and  Duth-carmor  meet.  The  latter  falls.  Ofcar 
carries  the  mail  and  helmet  of  Duth-carmor  to  Cathlin,  who  had  retired  from 
the  field.  Cathlin  is  difcovered  to  be  the  daughter  of  Cathmol,  in  difguife,  who 
had  been  carried  off,  by  force,  by,  and  had  made  her  efcape  from,  Duth-carmor. 


CATHLIN    OF  CLUTHA: 


OEM. 


*/^OME,  thou  beam  that  art  lonely,  from  watching 
V_><  in  the  night !  The  fqually  winds  are  around  thee, 
from  all  their  echoing  hills.  Red,  over  my  hundred 
ftreams,  are  the  hght-covered  paths  of  the  dead.  They 
rejoice,  on  the  eddying  winds,  in  the  feafon  of  night. 
Dwells  there  no  joy  in  fong,  white  hand  of  the  harps  of 
Lutha  ?  Awake  the  voice  of  the  firing ;  roll  my  foul  to 
me.  It  is  a  ftream  that  has  failed.  Malvina,  pour  the  fong. 
I  HEAR  thee,  from  thy  darknefs,  in  Selma,  thou  that 
watched,  lonely  by  night!  Why  didfl  thou  withhold  the 
fong  from  Offian's  failing  foul  ?  As  the  falling  brook  to 
the  ear  of  the  hunter,  defcending  from  his  llorm-covered 
hill ;  in  a  fun  beam  rolls  the  echoing  ftream  ;  he  hears, 
and  fhakes  his  dewy  locks:  fuch  is  the  voice  of  Lutha,  to 
the  friend  of  the  fpirits  of  heroes.  My  fwelling  bofom 
beats  high.  I  look  back  on  the  days  that  are  paft.  Come, 
thou  beam  that  are  lonely,  from  watching  in  the  night ! 

In 

*  The  traditions,  which  accompany  this  poem,  inform  us,  that  it  went,  of 
old,  under  the  name  of  Laoi-Oi-Lutha  ;  i.  e.  the  hymn  of  the  maid  of  Lutha.  They 
pretend  alfo  to  fix  the  time  of  its  compofition,  to  the  third  year  after  the  deaiii  of 
Fingal ;  that  is,  during  the  expedition  of  Fergus  the  fon  of  Fmgal,  to  the  banks  of 
Vifcha-duthon.  In  fupport  of  this  opinion,  the  Highland  fenachies  have  prefixed 
to  this  poem,  an  addrefs  of  Oflian,  to  Congal  the  young  fon  of  Fergas,  which  I 
haye  rejefted,  as  having  no  manner  of  connection  with  the  refl  of  the  piece.  It 
has  poetical  merit;  and,  probably,  it  was  the  opening  of  fome  of  Offian's  other 
poems,  the'  the  bards  injudicioufly  transferred  it  to  the  piece  now  before  us. 


CONGAL,  fon  of  Fergus  of  Durath,  thou  light  between  thy  locks,  afcend  to 
the  rock  of  Selma,  to  the  oak  of  the  breaker  of  fliields.  Look  over  the  bofom 
of  night,  it  is  ftreaked  with  the  red  paths  of  the  dead  :  look  on  the  night  of  ghofls, 
and  kindle,  O  Congal,  thy  foul.  Be  not,  like  the  moon  on  a  ftream,  lonely  in  the 
midft  of  clouds :  darknefs  clofes  around  it :  and  the  beam  departs.  Depart  not, 
fon  of  Fergus,  ere  thou  markeft  the  field  with  thy  fword.  Afcend  to  the  rock  of 
Selma  J  to  the  oak  of  the  breaker  of  Ihields. 


110  CATHLIN  OF  CLUTHA: 

In  the  echoing  bay  of  Carmona  *  we  faw,  one  day,  the 
bounding  fhip.  On  high,  hung  a  broken  ihield ;  it  was 
marked  with  wandering  blood.  Forward  came  a  youth, 
in  arms,  and  flretched  his  pointlefs  fpear.  Long,  over  hl's 
tearful  eyes,  hung  loofe  his  difordered  locks.  Fingal  gave 
the  ihell  of  kings.  The  words  of  the  ftranger  arofe.  "  In 
his  hall  lies  Cathmol  of  Clutha,  by  the  winding  of  his 
own  dark  ftreams.  Duth-carmor  faw  white-bofomed  La- 
nulf,  and  pierced  her  father's  fide.  In  the  rufhy  defart 
were  my  fteps.  He  fled  in  the  feafon  of  night.  Give  thine 
aid  to  Cathlin  to  revenge  his  father.  I  fought  thee  not  as 
a  beam,  in  a  land  of  clouds.  Thou,  like  the  fun,  art 
known,  king  of  echoing  Selma !" 

Selma's  king  looked  around.  In  his  prefence,  we  rofe 
in  arms.  But  who  fnould  lift  the  fliield  .?  for  all  had 
claim.ed  the  war.  The  night  came  down :  we  ftrode,  in 
lilence,  each  to  his  hill  of  gholls  ;  that  fpirits  might  de- 
fcen*d,  in  our  dreams,  to  mark  us  for  the  field.  We  ftruck 
the  fliield  of  the  dead :  we  raifed  the  hum  of  fongs.  We 
thrice  called  the  ghofls  of  our  fathers.  We  laid  us  down 
in  dreams.  Trenmor  came,  before  my  eyes,  the  tall  form 
of  other  years !  His  blue  hofts  were  behind  him  in  half- 
diftinguifhed  rows.    Scarce  feen  is  their  ftrife  in  mill,  or 

their 

*  Car-mona,  l>ay  of  the  dark  brown  hills,  an  arm  of  the  fea,  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Selma.  In  this  paragraph  are  mentioned  the  fignals  prefented  to  Fingal,  by 
thofe  who  came  to  demand  his  aid.  The  fuppliants  held,  in  one  hand,  a  fhield 
covered  with  blood,  and  in  the  other,  a  broken  fpear;  the  firft  a  fymbol  of  the 
death  of  their  friends,  the  laft  an  emblem  of  their  own  helplcfs  fi'uatlon.  If  the 
king  chofe  to  grant  fuccouis,  which  generally  was  the  cafe,  he  reached  to  them  the 
Jlidl  of  feafis,  as  a  token  of  his  hofpitality  and  friendly  intentions  towards  them. 

It  may  not  be  difagrceable  to  the  reader  to  lay  here  before  him  the  ceremony  of 
the  Cran-tara,  which  was  of  a  fimilar  nature,  and,  till  very  lately,  ufed  in  the 
Highlands.  When  the  news  of  an  enemy  came  to  the  refidence  of  the  chief,  he 
immediately  killed  a  goat  with  his  own  fword,  dipped  the  end  of  a  half-burnt  piece 
of  wood  in  the  blood,  and  gave  it  to  one  of  his  fervants,  to  be  carried  to  the  next 
hamlet.  From  hamlet  to  hamlet  this  tejera  was  carried  with  the  utmoft  expedition, 
and  in  the  fpace  of  a  few  hours,  the  whole  clan  were  in  arms,  and  convened  in  an 
appointed  place ;  the  name  of  which  was  the  only  word  that  accompanied  the  de- 
livery of  the  Cran-tara.  This  fymbol  was  the  manifefto  of  the  chief,  by  which  he 
threatened  fire  and  fword  to  thofe  of  his  clan,  that  did  not  immediately  appear  at 
his  flandard. 

+  Lanul,/z<//-nri,  a  furname  which,  according  to  tradition,  was  beflowed  on 
the  daughter  of  Cathmol,  on  account  of  her  beauty  ;  this  tradition,  however,  may 
have  been  founded  on  that  partiality,  which  the  bards  have  fliewn  to  Cathlin  of  Clu- 
tha; for,  according  to  them,  no  fafJiood  could  dwell  in  the  foul  of  the  lovely. 


A     P  O  E  M.  Ill 

their  Ilretchlng  forward  to  deaths.     I  liftened;  but  no 
found  was  there.    The  forms  were  empty  wind ! 

I  STARTED  from  the  dream  of  ghofls.  On  a  fudden 
blaft  flew  my  whiftling  hair.  Low-founding,  in  the  oak^ 
is  the  departure  of  the  dead.  I  took  my  Ihield  from  its 
bough.  Onward  came  the  rattling  of  fteel.  It  was  Ofcar* 
of  Lego.  He  had  feen  his  fathers.  "  As  rufhes  forth 
the  blaft,  on  the  bofom  of  whitening  waves ;  fo  carelefs 
Ihall  my  courfe  be,  through  ocean,  to  the  dwelling  of  foes. 
I  have  feen  the  dead,  my  father!  My  beating  foul  is  high! 
My  fame  is  bright  before  me,  like  the  flreak  of  light  on 
a  cloud,  when  the  broad  fun  comes  forth,  red  traveller  of 
the  %  1'* 

"  Grandson  of  Branno,'*  Ifaid,  "  not  Ofcar  alone  Ihall 
meet  the  foe.  I  rufh  forward,  thro'  ocean,  to  the  woody 
dwelling  of  heroes.  Let  us  contend,  my  fon,  like  eagles, 
from  one  rock;  when  they  lift  their  broad  wings,  againfl 
the  ftream  of  winds."  We  raifed  our  fails  in  Carmona. 
From  three  fhips,  they  marked  my  fhield  on  the  wave,  as 
I  looked  on  nightly  Tonthena|,  red  traveller  between  the 
clouds.  Four  days  came  the  breeze  abroad.  Luman  came 
forward  in  mid.  In  winds  were  its  hundred  groves.  Sun- 
beams marked,  at  times,  its  brown  fide.  White,  leapt 
the  foamy  ilreams,  from  ail  its  echoing   rocks. 

A  GREEN  field,  in  the  bofom  of  hills,  winds  filent  with 
its  own  blue  ftream.  Here,  midfc  the  waving  of  oaks, 
were  the  dwellings  of  kings  of  old.  But  filence,  for  ma- 
ny dark-brov/n  years,  had  fettled  in  graffy  Rath-ccl  |[ ; 

for 

*  Ofcar  is  here  called  ^'[ar  of  Lego,  from  his  mother  being  the  daughter  of 
Branno,  a  powerful  chief,  on  the  banks  of  that  lake.  It  is  remarkable  that  Ofliaii 
addre'ff  s  no  poem  to  Malvina,  in  which  her  lover  Ofcar  was  not  one  of  the  princi- 
pal aftors.  His  attention  to  her,  afterthe  death  ot  his  fon,  fhews  that  delicacy  of 
fentiment  is  not  confined,  as  fome  fondly  imagine,  to  our  own  pohfhed  times. 

t  Ton-thena,  jire  ojthe  wave,  was  the  remarkable  flar  mentioned  in  the  feventh 
book  of  Temora,  which  dirett;d  the  courfe  of  Larthon  to  Ireland.  It  feemsto  have 
been  well  known  to  thofe,  who  failed  on  that  fea,  which  divides  Ireland  f:om 
South-Britain.  As  the  courfe  of  Offian  was  along  the  coalf  of  Inis-huna,  he  men- 
tions, with  propriety,  that  flar  which  direftcd  the  voyage  of  the  colony  from  that 
country  to  Ireland. 

II  Rath-ccl,  WDcdy  field,  does  not  appear  to  have  been  the  refidence  of  Duth-car- 
mor:  he  feems  rather  to  have  been  forced  thither  by  a  florm  ;  at  leaft  I  i!:ould 
thmk  that  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  poet,  fiorn  his  expreffion,  that  Ton-thena  had 
kid  her  head,  and  that  he  bound  his  white-bojlmcd  fails ;  which  is  as  much  as  to  fay. 
that  the  weather  was  ftormy,  and  that  Duth-carmor  put  in  to  the  bay  of  Rath-ccvl 
for  fhelter. 


112  CATHLIN  OF  CLUTI-IA: 

for  the  race  of  heroes  had  failed,  along  the  pleafant  vale. 
Duth-carmor  was  here,  with  his  people,  dark  rider  of  the 
wave.  Ton-thena  had  hid  her  head  in  the  Iky.  He  bound 
his  white-bofomed  fails.  His  courfe  is  on  the  hills  of  Rath- 
col,  to  the  feats  of  roes.  We  came  ;  I  fent  the  bard,  with 
fongs,  to  call  the  foe  to  fight.  Duth-carmor  heard  him, 
with  joy.  The  king's  foul  was  like  a  beam  of  fire;  a  beam 
of  fire,  marked  with  fmoke,  rufliing,  varied,  thro'  the 
bofom  of  night.  The  deeds  of  Duth-carmor  were  dark, 
though  his  arm  was  ftrong. 

Night  came,  with  the  gathering  of  clouds.  By  the 
beam  of  the  oak  we  fat  down.  At  a  diftance  flood  Cathlin 
of  Clutha.  I  faw  the  changeful  *  foul  of  the  ftranger.  As 
fhadows  fly  over  the  field  of  grafs,  fo  various  is  Cathlin's 
cheek.  It  was  fair,  within  locks,  that  rofe  on  Rath-col's 
wind.  I  did  not  rufli,  amidfl  his  foul ;  with  my  words  I 
bade  the  fong  to  rife. 

"  Oscar  of  Lego,"  I  faid,  "  be  thine  the  fecret  hill  f 
to-night.  Strike  the  fliield,  like  Morven's  kings.  With 
day,  thou  fhalt  lead  in  war.  From  my  rock,  I  lliall  fee 
thee,  Ofcar,  a  dreadful  form  in  fight,  like  the  appearance 
of  ghofts,  amidft  the  ftorms  they  raife.  Why  fliould  mine 
eyes  return  to  the  dim  times  of  old,  ere  yet  the  fong  had 
burfted  forth,  like  the  fudden  rifing  of  winds  ?  But  the 
years  that  are  paft,  are  marked  with  mighty  deeds.  As 
the  nightly  rider  of  waves  looks  up  to  Ton-thena  of  beams; 
fo  let  us  turn  our  eyes  to  Trenmor,  the  father  of  kings.'* 

"  Wide, 

*  From  this  circumflance,  fucceeding  bnrds  feigned  that  Cathlin,  who  is  herein 
the  difguife  of  a  young  warrior,  had  fallen  in  love  with  Duth-carmor  at  a  feaft,  to 
which  he  had  been  invited  by  her  father.  Her  love  was  converted  into  deteftation 
for  him,  after  he  had  murdered  her  father.  But  as  thofe  rain-bows  of  heaven  art 
changeful,  fay  my  authors,  fpeaking  of  women,  flie  felt  the  return  of  her  former 
paffion,  upon  the  approach  of  Duth-carmoi's  danger.  I  inyfelf,  who  think  more 
favourably  of  the  fex,  mud  attribute  the  agitation  of  Cathlin's  mind  to  her  extreme 
fenfibility  to  the  injuries  done  her  by  Duth-carmor:  and  this  opinion  is  favoured 
by  the  fequel  of  the  ffory. 

+  This  paflage  alludes  to  the  well  known  cuflom  among  the  ancient  kings  of 
Scotland,  to  retire  from  their  army  on  the  night  preceding  a  battle.  The  iiory 
which  Oflian  introduces  in  the  next  paragraph,  concerns  the  fall  of  the  Druids.  It 
is  faid  in  many  old  poems,  that  the  Druids,  in  the  extremity  of  their  affairs,  had 
folicited  and  obtained  aid  from  Scandinavia.  Among  the  auxiliaries  there  came 
many  pretended  magicians,  which  circumfiance  Oflian  alludes  to,  in  his  defcripti- 
on  oi ihs  Jon  of  Loda.  Magic  and  incantation  could  not,  however,  prevail;  tor 
Trenmor,  affided  by  the  valour  of  his  fon  Trathal,  entirely  broke  the  power  o^ 
the  Druids. 


A    P  O  E  M,  113 

"  "Wide,  in  Caracha's  echoing  field,  Carmal  had  pour- 
ed his  tribes.  They  were  a  dark  ridge  of  waves.  The 
grey-haired  bards  were  like  moving  foam  on  their  face. 
They  kindled  the  ftrife  around,  with  their  red-rolling  eyei. 
Nor  alone  were  the  dwellers  of  rocks  j  a  fon  of  Loda  was 
there ;  a  voice,  in  his  own  dark  land,  to  call  the  ghofts 
from  high.  On  his  hill,  he  had  dwelt,  in  Lochlin,  in  the 
the  midfl  of  a  leaflefs  grove.  Five  ftones  lifted,  near, 
their  heads.  Loud  roared  his  rulhing  flream.  He  often 
raifed  his  voice  to  the  winds,  when  meteors  marked  their 
nightly  wings;  when  the  dark-robed  moon  was  rolled  be- 
hind her  hill.  Nor  unheard  of  ghofls  was  he!  They  came 
with  the  found  of  eagles  wings.  They  turned  battle,  in 
fields,  before  the  kings  of  men. 

"  But  Trenmor  they  turned  not  from  battle.  He 
drew  forward  that  troubled  war  ;  in  its  dark  fkirt  Vv^as 
Trathal,  like  a  rifnig  light.  It  was  dark;  and  Loda's  fon 
poured  forth  his  figns,  on  night.  The  feeble  were  not 
before  thee,  fon  of  other  lands  !  *  Then  rofe  the  ftrife  of 
kings,  about  the  hill  of  night  ;  but  it  was  foft  as  two 
fummer  gales,  fliaking  their  light  v/ings,  on  a  lake.  Tren- 
mor yielded  to  his  fon  ;  for  the  fame  of  the  king  had  been 
heard.  Trathal  came  forth  before  his  father,  and  the  foes 
failed,  in  echoing  Caracha.  The  years  that  are  paft,  my 
fon,  are  marked  v-ith  mighty  deeds-}-." 

In  clouds  rofe  the  eaflern  light.  The  foe  came  forth  In 
arms.  The  ftrife  is  mixed  on  Rath-col,  like  the  roar  of 
ftrcams.  Behold  the  contending  of  kings  !  They  meet 
beftde  the  oak.  In  gleams  of  fteel  the  dark  forms  are  loft. 
Such  is  the  meeting  of  meteors,  in  a  vale,  by  night :  red 
light  is  fcattered  round,  and  men  forefee  the  ftorm !  Duth- 
carmor  is  low  in  blood !  The  fon  of  Offian  overcame  ! 
Not  harmlefs  in  battle  was  he,  Malvina  hand  of  harps ! 

Nor,  in  the  field,  were  the  fteps  of  Cathlin.  The 
ftranger  ftood  by  a  fecret  ftream,  where  the  foam  of  Rath- 

P  col 

*  Trenmor  and  Trathal.  Offian  introduces  this  epifode,  as  an  example  to  hh 
fon,  from  ancient  times. 

T  Thofe  who  deliver  down  this  poem  in  tradition,  lament  that  there  is  a  great 
part  of  it  loft.  In  particular  they  regret  the  lofs  of  an  epifode,  which  was  here  in- 
troduced, with  the  fequel  of  the  ftory  of  Carmal  and  his  Druids.  Their  attachment 
to  it  was  founded  on  the  defcriptions  of  maoical  enchantments  which  it  contained. 


114  CATHLIN  OF  CLUTHA. 

col  ikirted  the  molTy  ftones.  Above,  bends  the  branchy 
birch,  and  ftrews  its  leaves,  on  wind.  The  inverted  fpear 
of  Cathlin  touched,  at  times,  the  ftream.  Ofcar  brought 
Duth-carmor's  mail :  his  helmet  with  its  eagle-wing.  He 
placed  them  before  the  llranger,  and  his  words  were  heard. 
"  The  foes  of  thy  father  have  failed.  They  are  laid  in  the 
field  of  ghofls.  Renown  returns  to  Morven,  like  a  rifing 
wind.  Why  art  thou  dark,  chief  of  Clutha  ?  Is  there 
caufe  for  grief  ?" 

"  Son  of  OiTian  of  harps,  my  foul  is  darkly  fad.  I  be-- 
hold  the  arms  of  Cathmol,  which  he  raifed  in  war.  Take 
the  mail  of  Cathlin,  place  it  high  in  Selma's  hall ;  that 
thou  mayft  remember  the  haplefs  in  thy  diflant  land.'* 
From  white  breads  defcended  the  mail.  It  was  the  race 
of  kings ;  the  loft-handed  daughter  of  Cathmol,  at  the 
ftreams  of  Clutha  !  Duth-carmor  faw  her  bright  in  the 
hall ;  he  had  come,  by  night,  to  Clutha.  Cathmol  met 
him  in  battle ;  but  the  hero  fell.  Three  days  dwelt  the 
foe,  with  the  maid.  On  the  fourth  file  fled  in  arms.  She 
remembered  the  race  of  kings,  and  felt  her  burfting  foul ! 

Why,  maid  of  Tofcar  of  Lutha,  Ihould  I  tell  how 
Cathlin  failed  ?  Her  tomb  is  at  rufhy  Lumon,  in  a  dif- 
tant  land.  Near  it  were  the  fteps  of  Sul-malla,  in  the 
days  of  grief.  She  raifed  the  fong  for  the  daughter  of 
ftrangers,  and  touched  the  mournful  harp. 

Come,  from  the  watching  of  night,  Malvina,  lonely 
beam  ! 


SUL-MALLA 


SULMALLA  of  LUMON  : 


P  O  E  M. 


ARGUMENT. 

THIS  pecm,  which,  properly  fpeaking,  is  a  continuation  of  the  lafl,  opens  with 
an  addrefs  to  Sul-malla,  the  daughter  of  the  king  of  Inis-huna,  whom  Oflian 
met,  at  the  chace,  as  he  returned  from  the  battle  of  Rath-col.  Sul-malla  invites 
Oflian  and  Ofcar  to  a  feaft,  at  the  refidence  of  her  father,  who  was  then  abfent 
in  the  wars.  Upon  hearing  their  name  and  family,  fhe  relates  an  expedition  of 
Fingal  into  Inis-huna.  She  cafually  mentioning  Cathnior,  chief  of  Atha,  (who 
then  affifted  her  father  againft  his  enemies)  Oflian  introduces  the  epifode  of  Cul- 
gorm  and  Suran-dronlo,  two  Scandinavian  kings,  in  whofe  wars  Oflian  himfelf 
and  Cathmor  were  engaged  in  oppofite  fides.  The  flory  is  imperfe£l,  a  part  of 
the  original  being  loft.  OflTian,  warned,  in  a  dream,  by  the  ghoft  of  Trenmor, 
fcts  fail  from  Jnis-huna, 


SUL-MALLA  of  LUMON: 


POEM. 

*T  T  T"HO  moves  fo  Itately,  on  Lumon,  at  the  roar  of 
VV  the  foamy  waters?  Her  hair  falls  upon  her  heav- 
ing bread.  White  is  her  arm  behind,  as  flow  flie  bends 
the  bow.  Why  doft  thou  wander  in  defarts,  like  a  light 
thro*  a  cloudy  field?  The  young  roes  are  panting,  by 
their  fecret  rocks.  Return,  thou  daughter  of  kings  !  the 
cloudy  night  is  near !  It  was  the  young  branch  of  green 
Inis-huna,  Sul-malla  of  blue  eyes.  She  fent  the  bard  from 
her  rock,  to  bid  us  to  her  feaft.  Amidft  the  fong  we  fat 
down,  in  Cluba's  echoing  hall.  White  moved  the  hands 
of  Sul-malla,  on  the  trembling  firings.  Half-heard  amidfl 
the  found,  was  the  name  of  Atha/s  king :  he  that  was 
abfent  in  battle  for  her  own  green  land.  Nor  abfent  from 
her  foul  was  he ;  he  came  midft  her  thoughts  by  night. 
Ton-thena  looked  in,  from  the  fky,  and  favv^  her  toffmg 
arms. 

The  found  of  fhells  had  ceafed.  Amidft  long  locks, 
Sul-malla  rofe.  She  fpoke  with  bended  eyes,  and  aflied 
of  Our  courfe  thro'  feas  ;  "  for  of  the  kings  of  men  are 

ye, 

*  The  expedition  of  Oflian  to  Inis-huna  happened  a  fliort  time  before  Fingal 
paffed  over  into  Ireland,  to  dethrone  Cairbar  the  fon  of  Borbar-duthul.  Cathmor 
the  brother  of  Cairbar,  was  aiding  Conmor,  king  of  Inis-huna,  in  his  wars,  at  the 
time  that  Offian  defeated  Duth-carmor,  in  the  valley  of  Rath-col.  The  poem  is 
more  interefling,  that  it  contains  fo  many  particulars  concerning  thofe  perfonages, 
who  make  fo  great  a  figure  in  Temora. 

The  exaft  correfpondence  in  the  manners  and  cuftoms  of  Inis-huna,  as  here  de- 
fcribed,  to  thofe  of  Caledonia,  leaves  no  rojm  to  doubt,  that  the  inhabitants  of  both 
were  originally  the  fame  people.  Some  may  allege,  that  Oflian  might  transfer, 
in  his  poetical  defcriptions,  the  manners  of  his  own  nation  to  foreigners.  Th:s  ob- 
jeftion  is  eafily  anfwered.  Why  has  he  not  done  this  with  regard  to  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Scandinavia?  We  find  the  latter  very  different  in  their  cuftoms  and  fupei- 
ftitions  from  the  nations  of  Britain  and  Ireland.  The  Scandinavian  manners  are 
remarkably  barbarous  and  fierce,  and  feem  to  mark  out  a  nation  lefs  advanced  in  2 
flate  of  civilization,  than  the  inhabitants  of  Britain  were  in  the  times  of  Offian. 


n8        SUL-MALLA  of  LUiMON: 

ye,  tall  riders  of  the  wave*.'*  "  Not  unknown,"  I  faid, 
*'  at  his  flreams  is  he,  the  father  of  our  race.  Fingal  has 
been  heard  of  at  Cluba,  blue-eyed  daughter  of  kings.  Nor 
only  at  Cona's  ftream,  is  Offian  and  Ofcar  known.  Foes 
trembled  at  our  voice,  and  fhrunk  in  other  lands.'* 

"  Not  unmarked,"  faid  the  maid,  "  by  Sul-malla,  is 
the  fhield  of  Morven's  king.  It  hangs  high,  in  my  father's 
hall,  in  memory  of  the  pall ;  when  Fingal  came  to  Cluba, 
ill  the  days  of  other  years.  Loud  roared  the  boar  of  Cul- 
darnu,  in  the  midfl  of  his  rocks  and  woods.  Inis-huna 
fent  her  youths,  but  they  failed ;  and  virgins  wept  over 
tombs.  Carelefs  went  Fingal  to  Culdarnu.  On  his  fpear 
rolled  the  ftrength  of  the  woods.  He  was  bright,  they  laid, 
in  his  locks,  the  firft  of  mortal  men.  Nor  at  the  fealt  were 
heard  his  words.  His  deeds  paffed  from  his  foul  of  fire, 
like  the  rolling  of  vapours  from  the  face  of  the  wandering 
fun.  Not  carelefs  looked  the  blue  eyes  of  Cluba  on  his 
ftately  fteps.  In  white  bofoms  rofe  the  king  of  Selma, 
in  the  midft  of  their  thoughts  by  night.  But  the  winds 
bore  the  ftranger  to  the  echoing  vales  of  his  roes.  Nor 
loft  to  other  lands  was  he,  like  a  meteor  that  fmks  in  a 
cioud.  He  came  forth,  at  times,  in  his  brightnefs,  to  the 
diilant  dwelling  of  foes.  His  fame  came,  like  the  found 
of  winds,  to  Cluba's  v/oody  valef." 

"  Darkness 

*  Sul-malla  here  difcovers  the  quali'y  of  Oflian  and  Ofcar,  from  their  flature 
and  itately  gait.  Among  nations,  not  far  advanced  in  civilization,  a  fuperlor  beau- 
ty and  ftatelinefs  of  perfon  were  infeparable  from  nobility  ot  blood.  It  was  from 
shefc  qualities,  that  ihofe  of  family  were  known  by  ftrangers,  not  from  tawdry 
trappings  of  ftate  injudiciouily  thrown  round  them.  The  caufe  oi  this  diftinguifh- 
ing  property,  muH,  in  fome  mcafure,  be  afcribed  to  their  unmixed  blood.  They 
bad  no  inducement  to  intermarry  with  the  vulgar:  and  no  low  notions  of  intercR 
made  them  deviate  from  their  choice,  in  their  own  fphere.  In  ftatcs,  where 
luxury  has  been  long  eftabliflied,  beauty  of  perfon  is,  by  no  means,  the  charafter- 
iftic  of  antiquity  of  family.  This  muft  be  attributed  to  thofc  enervating  vices, 
which  are  infeparable  from  luxury  and  wealth.  A  great  family,  (to  alter  a  little 
the  words  of  the  hiftorian)  it  is  true,  like  a  river,  becomes  confiderable  from  the 
length  of  its  courfe,  but,  as  it  rolls  on,  hereditary  diftempers,  as  well  as  pro- 
perty, flow  fuccefTively  into  it. 

i  Too  partial  to  our  own  times,  we  are  ready  to  mark  out  remote  antiquity,  as 
the  region  of  ignorance  and  barbarifm.  This,  perhaps,  is  extending  our  prejudices 
too  far.  It  has  been  long  remarked,  that  Js.nowledgc,  in  a  great  mealure,  is  founded 
on  a  free  intercourfe  between  mankind ;  and  that  the  mind  is  enlarged  in  proportion 
to  the  obfervations  it  has  made  upon  the  manners  of  different  men  and  nations.  If 
ve  look,  with  attention,  into  the  biftory  of  Fingal,  as  delivered  by  Offian,  we  fliall 
ijnd  that  he  was  not  altogether  a  poor  ignorant  hunter,  confined  to  the  narrow  cor- 
ner 


A    P  O  £  M:  119 

*'  Darkness  dwells  in  Cluba  of  harps :  the  race  of 
kings  is  diftant  far ;  in  battle  is  my  father  Conmor :  and 
Lormar  *  my  brother,  king  of  ftreams.  Nor  darkening 
alone  are  they ;  a  beam,  from  other  lands,  is  nigh  ;  the 
friend  of  ftrangers  f  in  Atha,  the  troubler  of  the  field. 
High,  from  their  mifty  hills,  look  forth  the  blue  eyes  of 
Erin ;  for  he  is  far  away,  young  dweller  of  their  fouls ! 
Nor  harmlefs,  white  hands  of  Erin !  is  Cathmor  in  the 
fkirts  of  war;  he  rolls  ten  thoufand  before  him,  in  his 
diftant  field.'* 

"  Not  unfeen  by  Offian,"  I  faid,  "  rulhed  Cathmor 
from  his  ftreams,  when  he  poured  his  ftrength  on  I-thor-^ 
no II,  ifle  of  many  waves!  In  ftrife  met  two  kings  in  I-thor- 
no,  Culgorm  and  Suran-dronlo ;  each  from  his  echoing 
ifle,  ftern  hunters  of  the  boar  ! 

"  They  met  a  boar,  at  a  foamy  ftream :  each  pierced 
him  with  his  fpear.  They  ftrove  for  the  fame  of  the  deed; 
and  gloomy  battle  rofe.  From  ifle  to  ifle  they  fent  a  fpear, 
broken  and  ftained  with  blood,  to  call  the  friends  of  their 
fathers,  in  their  founding  arms.  Cathmor  came,  from 
Erin,  to  Culgorm,  red-eyed  king :  I  aided  Suran-dronlo, 
in  his  land  of  boars. 

"We" 

ner  of  an  ifland.  His  expeditions  to  al!  parts  of  Scandinavia,  to  the  north  of  Ger- 
many, and  the  dttferent  dates  of  Great  Biitain  and  Ireland,  were  very  numeroas, 
and  performed  under  fuch  a  character,  and  at  fuch  times,  as  gave  him  an  opportU' 
nity  to  mark  the  undifguifed  manners  of  mankind.  War  and  an  active  life,  a? 
they  call  forth,  by  turns,  all  the  powers  of  the  foul,  prefent  to  us  the  different  cha- 
rafters  of  men:  in  times  of  peace  and  quiet,  for  want  of  objefts  to  exert  them, 
the  powers  of  the  mind  lie  concealed,  in  a  great  meafure,  and  we  fee  only  artifi- 
cial paflions  and  manners.  It  is  from  this  confideration  I  conclude,  that  a  travel- 
ler of  penetration  could  gather  more  genuine  knowledge  from  a  lOur  of  ancient 
Gaul,  than  from  the  minuted  obfervation  of  all  the  artificial  manners,  and  eiegani 
refinements  of  modern  Fiance. 

*  Lormar  was  the  fon  of  Conmor,  and  the  brother  of  Sul-malla.  After  the 
death  of  Conmor,  Lormar  fucceedcd  him  in  the  throne. 

t  Cathmor,  the  fon  of  Borbar-duthul.  It  would  appear,  from  the  partialitj 
with  which  Sul-malla  fpeaks  of  that  hero,  that  fhe  had  feen  him,  previous  to  his 
joining  her  father's  army  ;  tho'  tradition  pofitively  affeits,  that  it  was  after  his  re- 
turn, that  file  fell  in  love  with  him. 

11  I-thorno,  fays  tradition,  was  an  ifland  of  Scandinavia.  In  it  at  a  hunting  par- - 
ty,  met  Culgorm  and  Suran-dronlo,  the  kings  of  two  neighbouring  ides.  They 
differed  about  the  honour  of  killing  a  boar ;  and  a  war  was  kindled  betsveen  them. 
From  this  epifode  we  may  learn,  that  the  manners  of  the  Scandinavians  were  much 
more  favage  and  cruel,  than  thofe  of  Britain.  It  is  remarkable,  that  the  names 
~  mtroduced  in  this  ffory,  are  not  of  Galic  original,  which  circumflancc  aifords  roo'.a  . 
to  fuppofe,  that  it  had  its  foundation  in  true  hiftory. 


120        SUL-MALLA  of  LUMON: 

"  We  rufhed  on  either  fide  of  a  ftream,  which  roared 
thro'  a  blafted  heath.  High  broken  rocks  were  round, 
with  all  their  bending  trees.  Near  were  two  circles  of 
Loda,  with  the  {tone  of  power  ;  where  fpirits  defcended, 
by  night,  in  dark-red  ftreams  of  fire.  There,  mixed  with 
the  murmur  of  waters,  rofe  the  voice  of  aged  men,  they 
called  the  forms  of  night,  to  aid  them  in  their  war. 

"  *  Heedless  I  ftood,  with  my  people,  where  fell  the 
foamy  ftream  from  rocks.  The  moon  moved  red  from  the 
mountain.  My  fong,  at  times,  arofe.  Dark,  on  the  other 
fide,  young  Cathmor  heard  my  voice;  for  he  lay,  beneath 
the  oak,  in  all  his  gleaming  arms.  Morning  came ;  we 
ruflied  to  fight:  from  wing  to  wing  is  the  rolling  of  ftrife. 
They  fell,  like  the  thiftle's  head,  beneath  autumnal  winds. 

"  In  armour  cam.e  a  ftately  form :  I  mixed  my  ftrokes 
with  the  chief.  By  turns  our  Ihields  are  pierced :  loud 
rung  our  fteely  mails.  His  helmet  fell  to  the  ground.  In 
brightnefs  jfhone  the  foe.  His  eyes,  two  pleafant  flames, 
rolled  between  his  wandering  locks.  I  knew  Cathmor  of 
Atha,  and  threw  my  fpear  on  earth.  Dark,  we  turned, 
and  filent  paffed  to  mix  with  other  foes. 

"  Not  fo  paffed  the  ftriving  kings  f.  They  mixed  in 
echoing  fray;  like  the  meeting  of  ghofts,  in  the  dark  wing 
of  v/inds.  Thro'  either  breait  ruilied  the  fpears  ;  nor  yet 
lay  the  foes  on  earth  !  A  rock  received  their  fall ;  half- 
reclined  they  lay  in  death.  Each  held  the  lock  of  his  foe; 
each  grimly  feemed  to  roll  his  eyes.  The  ftream  of  the 
rock  leapt  on  their  fnields,  and  mixed  below  with  blood. 

"  The  battle  ceafed  in  I-thorno.    The  ftrangers  met  in 
peace;  Cathmor  from  Atha  of  ftreams,  and  Ollian,  king 
of  harps.    We  placed  the  dead  in  earth.    Our  fteps  were  j 
by  Runar's  bay.    With  the  bounding  boat,  afar,  advanced 
a  ridgy  wave.    Dark  was  the  rider  of  feas,  but  a  beam  of 

light 

*  From  the  circumnance  of  Oflian  not  beina;  prefent  at  the  rites,  dcfcrlbed  ia 
the  preceding  paragraph,  we  may  fiippoie  that  he  held  them  in  contempt.  This 
differencE  of  f-'ntiment,  with  regard  to  rcHgion,  is  a  fort  of  argument,  that  the  Ca- 
ledonians were  not  orginally  a  colony  of  Scandinavians,  as  fome  have  imagined. 
Concerning  fo  remote  a  period,  mere  conjefture  muft  fupply  the  place  of  argument 
and  pofitive  proofs. 

+  Culgorm  and  Suran-dronlo.  The  combat  of  the  kings  and  their  attitude  in 
death  arc  hi^  hly  pifturefquc,  and  expielTivc  of  that  ferocity  of  raauncrs,  which  dil- 
ringuifhed  the  northern  nations.  j 


A     P  O  E  M.  121 

light  was  there,  like  the  ray  of  the  fun,  in  Stromlo's  roll- 
ing fnioke.  It  was  the  daughter  |  of  Suran-dronlo,  wild 
in  brightened  looks.  Her  eyes  were  wandering  flames, 
amidft  difordered  locks.  Forward  is  her  white  arm,  with 
the  fpear;  her  high-heaving  bread  is  feen,  white  as  foamy 
waves  that  rife,  by  turns,  amidft  roeks.  They  are  beauti- 
ful, but  terrible,  and  mariners  call  the  winds  1" 

"  Come,  ye  dwellers  of  Loda!"  fhe  faid,  "  come.  Car- 
char,  pale  in  the  midft  of  clouds  !  Sluthmor,  that  ftrideft 
in  airy  halls!  Corchtur,  terrible  in  winds!  Receive,  from 
his  daughter's  fpear,  the  foes  of  Suran-dronlo.  No  fha- 
dow,  at  his  roaring  ftreams  ;  no  mildly-looking  form  was 
he !  When  he  took  up  his  fpear,  the  hawks  fhook  their 
founding  wings :  for  blood  was  poured  around  the  fteps 
of  dark-eyed  Suran-dronlo.  He  lighted  me,  no  harmlefs 
beam,  to. glitter  on  his  ftreams.  Like  meteors  I  was  bright, 
but  I  blafted  the  foes  of  Suran-dronlo." 

Nor  unconcerned  heard  Sul-malla,  the  praife  of  Cath- 
mor  of  (hields.  He  was  within  her  foul,  like  a  fire  in  fe- 
cret  heath,  which  awakes  at  the  voice  of  the  blaft,  and 
fends  its  beams  abroad.     Amidft  the  fong  removed  the 

Q^  daughter 

+  Tradition  has  handed  down  the  name  of  this  princefs.  The  bards  call  her 
Runo-forlo,  which  has  no  other  fort  of  title  for  being  genuine,  but  its  not  bcnig  of 
Galic  original;  a  diftinction,  which  the  bards  had  not  the  art  to  preferve,  when 
they  feigned  names  for  foreigners.  The  highland  fenachies,  who  very  often  en- 
deavoured to  fupply  the  deficiency,  they  thought  they  found  m  the  tales  ot  OlTian, 
have  given  us  the  continuation  of  the  llory  of  the  daughter  of  Suran-dronlo.  The 
cataftrophe  is  fo  unnatural,  and  the  circumllances  of  it  fo  ridiculoufiy  pompous, 
that,  for  the  fake  of  the  inventors,  1  fhall  conceal  them. 

The  wildly  beautiful  appearance  of  Runo-forlo,  made  a  deep  imprefTinn  on  a 
chief,  fome  ages  ago,  who  was  himfelf  no  contemptible  poet.  The  ftory  is  ro- 
mantic, but  not  incredible,  •  if  we  make  allowances  for  the  lively  imagination  of 
a  man  of  genius.  Our  chief  failing,  in  a  ftorm,  along  one  of  the  iflands  of  Ork- 
ney, faw  a  woman,  in  a  boat,  near  the  fhore,  whom  he  thought,  as  he  exprelFes  it 
himfelf,  as  beautiful  as  a  fudden  ray  of  the  fun,  on  the  dark-heaving  deep.  The  ver- 
fes  of  OfTian,  on  the  attitude  of  Runo-forlo,  which  was  fo  fimilar  to  that  of  the 
woman  in  the  boat,  wrought  io  much  on  his  fancy  that  he  fell  defperately  in  love. 
The  winds,  however,  drove  him  from  the  coaft,  and,  after  a  fev/  days,  he  anived 
at  his  refidence  in  Scotland.  There  his  paflion  increafed  to  fuch  a  dtgree,  thac 
two  of  his  friends,  fearing  the  confequence,  failed  to  the  Orkneys,  to  cairy  to  him 
the  obje£k  of  his  defire.  Upon  enquiry  they  foon  found  the  nymph,  and  earned  her 
to  the  enamoured  chief;  but  mark  his  furprize,  when,  inflead  of  a  ray  of  the  fun,  he 
faw  a  fkinny  filherwoman,  more  than  middle  aged,  appearing  before  him.  Tra- 
dition here  ends  the  ftory  :  but  it  may  cafily  be  fuppofed  that  the  paflion  of  the 
chief  foon  fubfided. 


122        SUL-MALLA  of  LUMON. 

daughter  of  kings,  like  the  voice  of  a  fummer-breeze  ; 
when  it  lifts  the  heads  of  flowers,  and  curls  the  lakes  and 
dreams.  The  ruftling  found  gently  fpreads  o'er  the  vale^ 
foftly-pleafmg  as  it  faddens  the  foul. 

By  night  came  a  dream  to  OfTian ;  formlefs  flood  the 
fhadow  of  Trenmor.  He  feemed  to  ftrike  the  dim  fhield, 
on  Selma's  ftreamy  rock.  I  rofe,  in  my  rattling  fteel  ; 
I  knew  that  war  was  near  ;  before  the  winds  our  fails 
were  fpread;  when  Lumon  fhewed  its  ftreams  to  the  morn. 

Come  from  the  watching  of  night,  Malvina,  lonely 
beam ! 


THE 


T  H  E 


AR   OF  INIS-THONA 


A 


O  E 


ARGUMENT. 

REFLECTIONS  on  the  poet's  youth.  An  apoftrophe  to  Selma,  Ofcar  obtains 
leave  to  go  to  Inis-thona,  an  ifland  of  Scandinavia.  The  mournful  ftory  of 
Argon  and  Ruro,  the  two  fons  of  the  king  of  Inis-thona.  Ofcar  revenges  their 
death,  and  returns  in  triumph  to  Selma.     A  foliloquy  by  the  poet  himfelf. 


The  war  of  INIS-THONA 


POEM. 

OUR  youth  is  like  the  dream  of  the  hunter  on  the  hill 
of  heath.  He  fleeps  in  the  mild  beams  of  the  fun  ; 
he  awakes  amidft  a  ftorm :  the  red  lightening  flies  around ; 
trees  fhake  their  heads  to  the  wind !  He  looks  back,  with 
joy,  on  the  day  of  the  fun  ;  and  the  pleafant  dreams  of  his 
refl!  When  fliall  Offian's  youth  return?  when  his  ear  de- 
light in  the  found  of  arms  ?  When  fliall  I,  like  Ofcar,  tra- 
vel in  the  light  of  my  fteel  ?  Come,  with  your  ftreams,  ye 
hills  of  Cona  !  liften  to  the  voice  of  Offian.  The  fong  ri- 
fes,  like  the  fun,  in  my  foul.    I  feel  the  joys  of  other  times  ! 

I  BEHOLD  thy  towers,  O  Selma  !  the  oaks  of  thy  fhaded 
wall :  thy  ftreams  found  in  my  ear  ;  thy  heroes  gather 
around.  Fingal  fits  in  the  midft.  He  leans  on  the  fhield 
of  Trenmor  :  his  fpear  ftands  againft  the  wall  ;  he  liftens 
to  the  fong  of  his  bards.  The  deeds  of  his  arm  are  heard  ; 
the  actions  of  the  king  in  his  youth !  Ofcar  had  returned 
from  the  chace,  and  heard  the  hero's  praife.  He  took  the 
fhield  of  Branno*  from  the  wall ;  his  eyes  were  filled  with 
tears.  Red  was  the  cheek  of  youth.  His  voice  was  trem- 
bling, low.  My  fpear  fhook  its  bright  head  in  his  hand  : 
he  fpoke  to  Morven's  king. 

"  Fingal  !  thou  king  of  heroes !  OiTian,  next  to  him 
in  war !  ye  have  fought  in  your  youth  ;  your  names  are 
renowned  in  fong.  Ofcar  is  like  the  mift  of  Cona  ;  I  ap- 
pear, and  I  vanifh  away.  The  bard  will  not  know  my 
name.  The  hunter  will  not  fearch  in  the  heath  for  my 
tomb.  Let  me  fight,  O  heroes,  in  the  battles  of  Inis-thona. 
Diftant  is  the  land  of  my  war !  ye  Ihall  not  hear  of  Ofcar's 
fall !  Some  bard  may  find  me  there  ;  fome  bard  may  give 
my  name  to  fong.    The  daughter  of  the  ftranger  fliall  fee 

my 

*  This  is  Branno,  the  father  of  Everallin,  and  grandfather  to  Olcar;  he  was  of 
Infh  extraftion,  and  lord  of  the  country  round  the  lake  of  Lego.  His  great  aftions 
are  handed  down  by  tradition,  and  his  hofpitality  has  paffed  into  a  proverb. 


126      The  WAR  of  INIS-THONA: 

my  tomb,  and  weep  over  the  youth,  that  came  from  afar. 
The  bard  lliall  fay,  at  the  feaft,  "  hear  the  fong  of  Ofcar 
from  the  diftant  land." 

"  Oscar,"  repHed  the  king  of  Morven,  "  thou  fhalt 
fight,  fon  of  my  fame  !  Prepare  my  dark-bofomed  fhip  to 
carry  my  hero  to  Inis-thona.  Son  of  my  fon,  regard  our 
fame !  thou  art  of  the  race  of  renown  !  Let  not  the  chil- 
dren of  ftrangers  fay,  Feeble  are  the  fons  of  Morven ! 
Be  thou,  in  battle,  a  roaring  ftorm  :  mild,  as  the  evening 
fun,  in  peace  !  Tell,  Ofcar,  to  Inis-thona's  king,  that  Fin- 
gal  remembers  his  youth  ;  v/hen  we  ftrove  in  the  combat 
together,  in  the  days  of  Agandecca." 

They  lifted  up  the  founding  fail  ;  the  wind  whiftled 
through  the  thongs*  of  their  mails.  Waves  lafh  the  oozy 
rocks  :  the  flrength  of  ocean  roars.  My  fon  beheld,  from 
the  wave,  the  land  of  groves.  He  rufhed  into  Runa's 
founding  bay,  and  fenr  his  fword  to  Annir  of  fpears.  The 
s^rey-haired  hero  rofe,  when  he  faw  the  fword  of  Fingal. 
His  eyes  were  full  of  tears ;  he  remembered  his  battles  in 
youth.  Thrice  had  they  lifted  the  fpear,  before  the  lovely 
Agandecca  :  heroes  itood  far  diftant,  as  if  two  fpirits  were 
ftriving  in  winds. 

"  But  now,"  began  the  king,  "  I  am  old  ;  the  fword 
lies  ufelefs  in  my  hall.  Thou,  who  art  of  Morven's  race  ! 
Annir  has  feen  the  battle  of  fpears  ;  but  now  he  is  pale 
and  v/ithered,  like  the  oak  of  Lano.  I  have  no  fon  to 
meet  thee  with  joy,  to  bring  thee  to  the  halls  of  his  fa- 
thers. Argon  is  pale  in  the  tomb,  and  Ruro  is  no  more. 
My  daughter  is  in  the  hall  of  ftrangers  :  fhe  longs  to  be- 
hold my  tomb.  Her  fpoufe  fliakes  ten  thoufand  fpears  ; 
he  comes  f  a  cloud  of  death  from  Lano.  Come,  to  Ihare 
the  feaft  of  Annir,  fon  of  echoing  Morven  !" 

Three  days  they  feafted  together ;  on  the  fourth,  Annir 

heard 

*  Leather  thongs  were  ufed  among  the  Celtic  nations,  inftead  of  ropes. 

+  Cormalo  had  relblved  on  a  war  agamQ  his  father  in  law  Annir  king  of  Inis- 
thona,  in  order  to  deprive  him  of  his  kingdom:  the  injufiice  of  his  dcfigns  was  lo 
much  rcfented  hy  Fingal,  that  he  fent  his  grandfon,  Ol'car,  to  the  alTulance  of 
Annir.  Both  armies  came  foon  to  a  battle,  in  which  the  conduft  and  valour  of 
Ofcar  obtained  a  compleat  victory.  An  end  was  put  to  the  war  by  the  death  of 
Cormalo,  who  fell  in  a  fingle  combat,  by  Ofcar's  hand.  Thus  is  the  (lory  deliver- 
ed down  in  tradition;  though  the  poet,  to  raife  the  charaSer  of  his  fon,  makes  Cl- 
ear himfelf  propofe  the  expedition. 


A    P  O  E  M.  127 

heard  the  name  of  Ofcar.  They  rejoiced  in  the  Ihell  *. 
They  purfued  the  boars  of  Runa.  Befide  the  fount  of 
molTy  ftones,  the  weary  heroes  reft.  The  tear  fteals  in 
fecret  from  Annir  :  he  broke  the  rifmg  figh.  "  Here. 
darkly  reft,"  the  hero  faid,  "  the  children  of  my  youth. 
This  ftone  is  the  tomb  of  Ruro  ;  that  tree  founds  over 
the  grave  of  Argon.  Do  ye  hear  my  voiced  O  my  fons, 
within  your  narrow  houfe  ?  Or  do  ye  fpeak  in  thefe  ruft- 
ling  leaves,  when  the  winds  of  the  defart  rife  ?" 

"  King  of  Inis-thona,'*  faid  Ofcar,  "  how  fell  the  chil- 
dren of  youth  ?  The  wild  boar  rufties  over  their  tombs, 
but  he  does  not  difturb  their  repofe.  They  purfue  deer  f 
formed  of  clouds,  and  bend  their  airy  bow.  They  ftill 
love  the  fport  of  their  youth  ;  and  mount  the  wind  with 

j°y-"  .         ... 

"  CoRMALo,'*  replied  the  king,  "  is  a  chief  of  ten 
thoufand  fpears.  He  dwells  at  the  waters  of  Lano  j|,  which 
fends  forth  the  vapour  of  death.  He  came  to  Runa's 
echoing  halls,  and  fought  the  honour  of  the  fpear  §.  The 
youth  was  lovely  as  the  firft  beam  of  the  fun ;  few  were 
they  who  could  meet  him  in  fight !  My  heroes  yielded  to 
Cormalo :  my  daughter  was  feized  in  his  love.  Argon 
and  Ruro  returned  from  the  chace ;  the  tears  of  their 
pride  defcend :  they  roll  their  filent  eyes  on  Runa's  he- 
roes, v/ho  had  yielded  to  a  ftranger.  Three  days  they 
feafted  with  Cormalo:  on  the  fourth  young  Argon  fought. 
But  who  could  fight  with  Argon !  Cormalo  is  overcome. 
His  heart  fwelled  v/ith  the  grief  of  pride;  he  refolved,  in 
fecret,  to  behold  the  death  of  my  fons?  They  went  to  the 
hills  of  Runa:  they  purfued  the  dark-brown  hinds.  The 
arrow  of  Cormalo  flew  in  fecret  ;  my  children  fell  in 
blood.    He  came  to  the  maid  of  his  love;  to  Inis-thona's 

long- 

*  To  rejoice  in  the  Jliell  is  a  phrafe  for  feafting  fumptuoufly,  and  drinking  freely. 

+  The  notion  of  Oflian  concerning  the  flate  of  the  deceafed,  was  the  fame  with 
that  of  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans.  They  imagined  that  the  fouls  puifued, 
in  their  'eparate  ftate,  the  employments  and  pleafures  of  their  former  life. 

y  Lano  was  a  lake  of  Scandinavia,  remarkable,  in  the  days  of  Offian,  for  emit- 
ting a  peftilential  vapour  in  autumn.  And  thou,  0  valiant  Duchomar,  Like  the  mijl 
cf  marjhy  Lano;  when  it  fails  over  the  plains  of  autumn,  and  brinies  death  to  the  hoji. 

FiNGAL,  B.  I. 

^  By  the  honour  of  the  fpear  is  meant  the  tournaraent  praftifed  among  the  anci^ 
cnt  northern  nations, 


128       The  war  of  INIS-THONA: 

long-haired  maid.  They  fled  over  the  defart.  Annir  re- 
mained alone.  Night  came  on,  and  day  appeared ;  nor 
Argon's  voice,  nor  Riiro's  came.  At  length  tneir  much- 
loved  dog  was  feen  ;  the  fleet  and  bounding  Runar.  He 
came  into  the  hall  and  howled  ;  and  feemed  to  look  to- 
wards the  place  of  their  fall.  We  followed  him:  we  found 
them  here  :  we  laid  them  by  this  mofly  ftream.  This  is 
the  haunt  of  Annir,  when  the  chace  of  the  hinds  is  paft. 
I  bend  like  the  trunk  of  an  aged  oak ;  my  tears  for  ever 
flow !" 

"  O  RoNNAN !"  faid  the  riling  Ofcar,  "  Ogar  king  of 
fpears !  call  my  heroes  to  my  fide,  the  fons  of  fl:reamy 
Morven.  To-day  we  go  to  Lano's  water,  that  fends  forth 
the  vapour  of  death.  Cormalo  will  not  long  rejoice:  death 
is  often  at  the  point  of  our  fwords !" 

THEy  came  over  the  defart  like  ftormy  clouds,  when 
the  winds  roll  tkem  along  the  heath :  their  edges  are  tinged 
with  lightening ;  the  echoing  groves  forefee  the  ftorm ! 
The  horn  of  Ofcar's  battle  is  heard;  Lano  fiiook  over  all 
its  waves.  The  children  of  the  lake  convened  around  the 
founding  fnield  of  Cormalo.  Ofcar  fought,  as  he  was 
wont  in  war.  Cormalo  fell  beneath  his  fword  :  the  fons 
of  difmal  Lano  fled  to  their  fecret  vales  !  Ofcar  brought 
the  daughter  of  Iiiis-thona  to  Annir 's  echoing  halls.  The 
face  of  age  is  bright  with  joy  ;  he  bled  the  king  of 
fwords  ! 

How  great  was  the  joy  of  Ofllan,  when  he  beheld  the 
diftant  fail  of  his  fon !  it  was  like  a  cloud  of  light  that 
rifes  in  the  eaft,  when  the  traveller  is  fad  in  a  land  un- 
known ;  and  difmal  night,  with  her  ghofts,  is  fitting 
around  in  fliades !  We  brought  him,  with  fongs,  to  Sel- 
ma's  hails.  Fingal  fpread  the  feafl:  of  fliells.  A  thoufand 
bards  raifed  the  name  of  Ofcar  :  Morven  anfwered  to  the 
found.  The  daughter  of  Tofcar  was  there:  her  voice  was 
like  the  harp ;  when  the  diltant  found  comes,  in  the 
evening,  on  the  foft-rufl:ling  breeze  of  the  vale ! 

O  I, AY  me,  ye  that  fee  the  light,  near  fome  rock  of  my 
hills!  let  the  thick  hazels  be  around,  let  the  ruftling  oak 
be  near.  Green  be  the  place  of  my  reft;  let  the  found  of 
the  diltant  torrent  be  heard.     Daughter  of  Tofcar,  take 

the 


A     P  O  E  M.  129 

the  harp,  aAd  raife  the  lovely  fong  of  Selma  ;  that  fleep 
may  overtake  my  foul  in  the  midfl:  of  joy ;  that  the  dreams 
of  my  youth  may  return,  and  the  days  of  the  mighty  Fin- 
gal.  Selma !  I  behold  thy  towers,  thy  trees,  thy  Ihaded 
wall !  I  fee  the  heroes  of  Mdrven  ;  I  hear  the  fongs  of 
bards !  Ofcar  lifts  the  fword  of  Carmalo ;  a  thoufand 
youths  admire  its  fludded  thongs.  They  look  with  won- 
der on  my  fon  :  they  admire  the  ftrength  of  his  arm. 
They  mark  the  joy  of  his  father's  eyes  ;  they  long  for  an. 
equal  fame.  And  ye  fliall  have  your  fame,  O  fons  of 
ftreamy  Morven!  My  foul  is  often  brightened  with  fong; 
I  remember  the  friends  of  my  youth.  But  fleep  defcends, 
in  the  found  of  the  harp !  pleafant  dreams  begin  to  rife  ! 
Ye  fons  of  the  chace !  ftand  far  diftant,  nor  diflurb  my 
reft.  The  bard  of  other  times  holds  difcourfe  with  his 
fathers,  the  chiefs  of  the  days  of  old !  Sons  of  the  chace, 
ftand  far  diftant !  difturb  not  the  dreams  of  Ollian  ! 


R  THE 


THE 


SONGS   OF   S  E  L  M  A; 


ARGUMENT. 

ADDRESS  to  the  evening  ftar.  An  apoftrophe  to  Fingal  and  his  times.  Minona 
fings  before  the  king  the  fong  of  the  unfortunate  Colma;  and  the  bards  exhibit 
other  fpecimens  of  their  poetical  talents ;  according  to  an  annual  cuftom  eflablifh- 
ed  by  the  monarchs  of  the  ancient  Caledonians, 


The    songs    of    SELMA. 


STAR  of  defcending  night!  fair  Is  thy  light  in  the 
weft !  thou  lifted  thy  unfhorn  head  from  thy  cloud : 
^hy  fteps  are  (lately  on  thy  hill.  What  dofl  thou  behold 
in  the  plain  ?  The  ftormy  winds  are  laid.  The  murmur 
of  the  torrent  comes  from  afar.  Roaring  waves  climb  the 
diftant  rock.  The  flies  of  evening  are  on  their  feeble 
wings ;  the  hum  of  their  courfe  is  on  the  field.  What 
dofl  thou  behold,  fair  light  ?  But  thou  dofl  fmile  and  de- 
part. The  waves  come  with  joy  around  thee:  they  bathe 
thy  lovely  hair.  Farewel,  thou  filent  beam!  Let  the  light 
of  OfTian's  foul  arife ! 

And  it  does  arife  in  its  flrength!  I  behold  iny  departed 
friends.  Their  gathering  is  on  Lora,  as  in  the  days  of 
other  years.  Fingal  comes  like  a  watry  column  of  mifl ; 
his  heroes  are  around:  And,  fee  the  bards  of  fong,  grey- 
haired  Ullin !  llately  Ryno !  Alpin  *,  with  the  tuneful 
voice!  the  foft  complaint  of  Minona!  How  are  ye  changed, 
my  friends,  fmce  the  days  of  Selma's  feafl?  when  we  con- 
tended, like  gales  of  fpring,  as  they  fly  along  the  hill,  and 
bend  by  turns  the  feebly-whiftling  grafs. 

MiNONA  f  came  forth  in  her  beauty ;  with  down-cafl 
Jook  and  tearful  eye.  Her  hair  flew  flowly  on  the  blafl, 
that  rufhed  unfrequent  from  the  hill.  The  fouls  of  the 
heroes  were  fad  when  fhe  raifed  the  tuneful  voice.  Often 
had  they  feen  the  grave  of  Salgar  ||,  the  dark  dwelling  of 
white-bofomed  Colma§.  Colma  left  alone  on  the  hill, 
with  all  her  voice  of  fong!  Salgar  promifed  to  come:  but 

the 

*  Alpin  is  from  the  fame  root  with  Albion,  or  rather  Albin,  the  ancient  name 
of  Britain;  Alp,  high  ijland,  ox  country.  The  prefent  name  of  our  ifland  has  its 
origin  in  the  Celtic  tongue ;  fo  that  thole  who  derived  it  from  any  other,  betrayed 
their  ignorance  of  the  ancient  language  of  our  country.  Brait  or  Braid  cxtenfive; 
and  in,  land. 

+  Offian  introduces  Minona,  not  in  the  ideal  fcene  iu  his  own  mind,  which  he 
had  defcribed ;  but  at  the  annual  feaft  of  Selma,  where  the  bards  repeated  their 
works  before  ^^ingal.  ' 

■    (j  Sealg-'er,  a  hunter. 

%  Cul-math,  a  woman  with  fine  hair. 


134        The   SONGS   of   SELMA. 

the  night  defcended  around.     Hear  the  voice  of  Colmaj 
when  ftie  fat  alone  on  the  hill ! 

Col  MA. 

It  is  night ;  I  am  alone,  forlorn  on  the  hill  of  florms. 
The  wind  is  heard  in  the  mountain.  The  torrent  pours 
down  the  rock.  No  hut  receives  me  from  the^  rain ;  for- 
lorn on  the  hill  of  winds ! 

Rise,  moon !  from  behind  thy  clouds.  Stars  of  the 
night,  arife!  Lead  me,  fome  light,  to  the  place  where  my 
love  refts  from  the  chace  alone !  his  bow  near  him,  un- 
ilrung :  his  dogs  panting  around  him.  But  here  I  muft 
fit  alone,  by  the  rock  of  the  molTy  ftream.  The  flream 
and  the  wind  roar  aloud.  I  hear  not  the  voice  of  my 
love!  Why  delays  my  Salgar,  why  the  chief  of  the  hill, 
his  promife  ?  Here  is  the  rock,  and  here  the  tree !  here 
is  the  roaring  flream !  Thou  didft  promife  with  night 
to  be  here.  Ah,  whither  is  my  Salgar  gone  ?  With  thee 
I  would  fly,  from  my  father ;  with  thee,  from  my  bro- 
ther of  pride.  Our  race  have  long  been  foes :  we  are 
not  foes,  O  Salgar! 

Cease  a  little  while,  O  wind !  flream,  be  thou  filent 
a  while !  let  my  voice  be  heard  around.  Let  my  wanderer 
hear  me  !  Salgar !  it  is  Colma  who  calls.  Here  is  the 
tree,  and  the  rock.  Salgar,  my  love !  I  am  here.  Why 
delayefl  thou  thy  coming?  Lo!  the  calm  moon  comes 
forth.  The  flood  is  bright  in  the  vale.  The  rocks  are  grey 
on  the  fleep.  I  fee  him  not  on  the  brow.  His  dogs  come 
not  before  him,  with  tidings  of  his  near  approach.  Here 
I  mufl  fit  alone ! 

Who  lie  on  the  heath  befide  me  ?  Are  they  my  love 
and  my  brother?  Speak  to  me,  O  my  friends!  To  Colma 
they  give  no  reply.  Speak  to  me :  I  am  alone !  My  foul 
is  tormented  with  fears!  Ah!  they  are  dead!  Their  fwords 
are  red  from  the  fight.  O  my  brother!  my  brother!  why 
haft  thou  llain  my  Salgar?  why,  O  Salgar!  hafl  thou 
flain  my  brother  ?  Dear  were  ye  both  to  me  !  what  fhall 
I  fay  in  your  praife  ?  Thou  wert  fair  on  the  hill  among 
thoufands !  he  was  terrible  in  fight.  Speak  to  me ;  hear 
my  voice  ;  hear  me,  fons  of  my  love !  They  are  filent ; 

filent 


tHE    SONGS   OF   SELMA.         135. 

iilent  for  ever  !  Cold,  cold  are  their  breafts  of  clay  !  Oh ! 
from  the  rock  on  the  hill ;  from  the  top  of  the  windy 
deep,  fpeak,  ye  ghofts  of  the  dead !  fpeak,  I  will  not  be 
afraid!  Whither  are  ye  gone  to  reft?  In  what  cave  of  the 
hill  fhall  I  find  the  departed  ?  No  feeble  voice  is  on  the 
gale :  no  anfwer  half-drowned  in  the  ftorm  ! 

I  SIT  in  my  grief!  I  wait  for  morning  in  my  tears! 
Rear  the  tomb,  ye  friends  of  the  dead.  Clofe  it  not  till 
Colma  come.  My  life  flies  away  like  a  dream:  why  fliould 
I  ftay  behind  ?  Here  fliall  I  reft  with  my  friends,  by  the 
ftream  of  the  founding  rock.  When  night  comes  on  the 
hill :  when  the  loud  winds  arife ;  my  ghoft  fliall  ftand  in 
the  blaft,  and  mourn  the  death  of  my  friends.  The  hun- 
ter fliall  hear  from  his  booth.  He  fliall  fear  but  love  my 
Voice !  For  fvi^eet  fliall  my  voice  be  for  my  friends  :  plea- 
fant  were  her  friends  to  Colma ! 

Such  was  thy  fong,  Minona,  foftlj'  blufliing  daughter 
of  Torman.  Our  tears  defcended  for  Colma,  and  our 
fouls  were  fad !  Ullin  came  with  his  harp  ;  he  gave  the 
fong  of  Alpin.  The  voice  of  Alpin  was  pleafant;  the  foul 
of  Ryno  was  a  beam  of  fire  !  But  they  had  refted  in  the 
narrow  houfe :  their  voice  had  ceafed  in  Selma.  Ullin 
had  returned,  one  day,  from  the  chace,  before  the  heroes 
fell.  He  heard  their  ftrife  on  the  hill;  their  fong  was  foft 
but  fad  !  They  mourned  the  fail  of  Morar,  firft  of  mortal 
men!  His  foul  was  like  the  foul  of  Fingal;  his  fword  like 
the  fword  of  Ofcar.  But  he  fell,  and  his  father  mourned: 
his  fifter's  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  Minona's  eyes  were 
full  of  tears,  the  fifter  of  car-borne  Morar.  She  retired 
from  the  fong  of  Ullin,  like  the  moon  in  the  weft,  when 
flie  forefees  the  fliower,  and  hides  her  fair  head  in  a  cloud. 
X  touched  the  harp,  with  Ullin ;  the  fong  of  mourning  rofe  1 

Ryno. 

The  wind  and  the  rain  are  paft  :  calm  is  the  noon  of 
day.  The  clouds  are  divided  in  heaven.  Over  the  green 
hills  flies  the  inconftant  fun.  Red  through  the  ftony  vale 
comes  down  the  ftream  of  the  hill.  Sweet  are  thy  mur- 
murs, O  itream  !  but  more  fweet  is  the  voice  I  hear.  It 
is  the  voice  of  Alpin,  the  fon  of  fong,  mourning  for  the 

dead  ^ 


136        The   songs  of   SELMA, 

dead  !  Bent  is  his  head  of  age  ;  red  his  tearful  eye.    Al- 

pin,   thou  fon  of  fong,  why  alone  on  the  filent  hill  ? 

why  complained  thou,  as  a  blaft  in  the  wood  ;  as  a  wave 

on  the  lonely  fliore  ?  . 

•'  Alpin. 

My  tears,  O  Ryno !  are  for  the  dead  ;  my  voice  for 
thofe  that  have  paffed  away.  Tall  thou  art  on  the  hill  ; 
fair  among  the  fons  of  the  vale=  But  thou  flialt  fall  like 
Morar*;  the  mourner  fhall  fit  on  thy  tomb.  The  hills 
Ihall  know  thee  no  more ;  thy  bow  fhall  lie  in  the  hall, 
unftrung  ! 

Thou  wert  fwift,  O  Morar !  as  a  roe  on  the  defart  ; 
terrible  as  a  meteor  of  fire.  Thy  wrath  was  as  the  ftorm  ; 
thy  fword,  in  battle,  as  lightning  in  the  field.  Thy  voice 
was  as  a  ftream  after  rain  ;  like  thunder  on  diflant  hills. 
Many  fell  by  thy  arm ;  they  were  confumed  in  the  flames 
of  thy  wrath.  But  when  thou  didft  return  from  war,  how 
peaceful  was  thy  brow !  Thy  face  was  like  the  fun  after 
rain  ;  like  the  moon  in  the  filence  of  night ;  calm  as  the 
bread  of  the  lake  when  the  loud  wind  is  laid. 

Narrow  is  thy  dwelling  now  !  dark  the  place  of  thine 
abode !  With  three  fleps  I  compafs  thy  grave,  O  thou 
who  waft  fo  great  before  !  Four  ftones,  with  their  heads 
of  mofs,  are  the  only  memorials  of  thee.  A  tree  with 
fcarce  a  leaf,  long  grafs,  which  whiftles  in  the  wind,  mark 
to  the  hunter's  eye  the  grave  of  the  mighty  Morar.  Mo- 
rar !  thou  art  low  indeed.  Thou  haft  no  mother  to  mourn 
thee  ;  no  maid,  with  her  tears  of  love.  Dead  is  flie  that 
brought  thee  forth.    Fallen  is  the  daughter  of  Morglan. 

Who  on  his  ftaff  is  this  ?  who  is  this,  whofe  head  i»" 
white  with  age?  whofe  eyes  are  red  with  tears  ?  who  quakes 
at  every  ftep  ?  It  is  thy  father  f,  O  Morar  !  the  father  of 
no  fon  but  thee.  He  heard  of  thy  fame  in  war;  he  heard 
of  foes  difperfed.  He  heard  of  Morar's  renown  :  why  did 
he  not  hear  of  his  wound  ?  Weep,  thou  father  of  Morar  ! 
weep  ;  but  thy  fon  heareth  thee  not.  Deep  is  the  fleep  of 
the  dead ;  low  their  pillow  of  duft.  No  more  fliall  he 
hear  thy  voice  ;  no  more  awake  at  thy  call.    When  Hiall 

it 

*  M6i-er,  great  man. 

A  Torman,  the  fon  of  Carthul,  lord  of  I-mora,  ©ne  of  the  weftern  ifle?. 


j  The  songs  of  SELMA,        137 

It  be  morn  in  the  grave,  to  bid  the  flumberer  awake  ? 
Farewel,  thou  braveft  of  men  !  thou  conqueror  in  the 
field  !  But  the  field  fhall  fee  thee  no  more ;   nor  the  dark 
wood  be  lightened  with  the  fplendor  of  thy  Heel.    Thou 
hafl  left  no  fon.    The  fong  fhall  preferve  thy  name.    Fu- 
ture times  fhall  hear  of  thee  ;  they  fhall  hear  of  the  fallen. 
Morar  ! 
\      The  grief  of  all  arofe,  but  mofl  the  burfling  figh  of 
I  Armin*.     He  remembers  the  death  of  his  fon,  who  fell 
\  in  the  days  of  his  youth.    Carmor-j-  was  near  the  hero, 
'  the  chief  of  the  echoing  Galmal.    Why  burfls  the  figh  of 
Armin,  he  faid  ?    Is  there  a  caufe  to  mourn  ?    The  fong 
comes,  with  its  mufic,  to  melt  and  pleafe  the  foul.     It  is 
like  foft  mill,  that,  rifing  from  a  lake,  pours  on  the  filent 
vale ;  the  green  flowers  are  filled  with  dew,  but  the  fun 
returns  in  his  flrength,  and  the  mift  is  gone.     Why  art 
thou  fad,  O  Armin,  chief  of  fea-furrounded  Gorma  ? 

Sad  I  am  !  nor  fmall  is  my  caufe  of  woe !  Carmor, 
thou  hafl  lofl  no  fon;  thou  hafl  lofl  no  daughter  of  beau« 
ty.  Colgar  the  valiant  lives  ;  and  Annira  fairefl  maid. 
The  boughs  of  thy  houfe  afcend,  O  Carmor !  but  Armin. 
is  the  lafl  of  his  race.  Dark  is  thy  bed,  O  Daura !  deep 
thy  fleep  in  the  tomb !  When  fhalt  thou  awake  with  thy 
fongs  ?  with  ail  thy  voice  of  mufic  ? 

Arise,  winds  of  autumn,  arife  ;  blow  along  the  heath! 
flreams  of  the  mountains,  roar !  roar,  tempefls,  in  the 
groves  of  my  oaks !  walk  through  broken  clouds,  O 
moon!  fhow  thy  pale  face,  at  intervals!  bring  to  my  mind 
the  night,  when  all  my  children  fell ;  when  Arindal  the 
mighty  fell ;  when  Daura  the  lovely  failed  !  Daura,  my 
daughter  !  thou  wert  fair  :  fair  as  the  moon  on  Fura  jj  ; 
white  as  the  driven  fnow ;  fweet  as  the  breathing  gale. 
Arindal,  thy  bow  was  flrong.  Thy  fpear  was  fwift  in  the 
field.  Thy  look  was  like  mift  on  the  wave  ;  thy  fhield,  a 
red  cloud  in  a  florm.  Armar,  renowned  in  war,  came, 
and  fought  Daura's  love.  He  was  not  long  refufed :  fair 
was  the  hope  of  their  friends ! 

S  Erath, 

*  Armin,  a  hero.  He  was  chief  or  petty  king  of  Gorma,  i,  e,  tfic  blue  ijlmd) 
fuppofed  to  be  one  of  the  Hebrides. 

t  Cear-mor,  a  tall  dark-complexioned  7nan, 
\  Fuar-a,  cold  ijland. 


,o8        The  songs   of   SELMA= 

Erath,  fon  of  Odgal,  repined:  his  brother  had  been 
ilain  by  Armar.  He  came  difguifed  like  a  fon  of  the  fea : 
fair  was  his  fkift'ofi  the  wave;  white  his  locks  of  age;  calm 
his  ferious  brow.  Faired  of  women,  he  faid,  lovely  daugh- 
ter of  Armin  !  a  rock  not  diftant  in  the  fea,  bears  a  tree 
on  its  fide  ;  red  fhines  the  fruit  afar  !  There  Armor  waits 
for  Daura.  I  come  to  carry  his  love!  She  went;  ihe  cal- 
led on  Armar.  Nought  anfwered,  but  the  *  fon  of  the 
rock.  Armar,  my  love !  my  love  !  why  tormented  thou 
me  with  fear  ?  hear,  fon  of  Arnart,  hear :  it  is  Daura  who 
calleth  thee !  Erath  the  traitor  fied  laughing  to  the  land. 
She  lifted  up  her  voice;  ihe  called  for  her  brother  and  her 
father.    Arindal !  Armin  !  none  to  relieve  your  Daura ! 

Her  voice  came  over  the  fea.  Arindal  my  fon  defcend- 
ed  from  the  hill ;  rough  in  the  fpoils  of  the  chace.  His 
arrows  rattled  by  his  iide ;  his  bow  was  in  his  hand :  five 
dark  grey  dogs  attend  his  fteps.  He  faw  fierce  Erath  on 
the  fhore :  he  feized  and  bound  him  to  an  oak.  Thick 
vvi'ind  the  thongs  |  of  the  hide  around  his  limbs;  he  loads 
the  wind  with  his  groans.  Arindal  afcends  the  deep  in 
his  boat  to  bring  Daura  to  land.  Armar  came  in  his 
wrath,  and  let  fly  the  grey-feathered  fhaft.  It  fung  ;  it 
funk  in  thy  heart,  O  Arindal  my  fon;  for  Erath  the  traitor 
thou  diedfl.  The  oar  is  flopped  at  once  ;  he  panted  oa 
the  rock  and  expired.  What  is  thy  grief,  O  Daura,  when 
round  thy  feet  is  poured  thy  brother's  blood !  The  boat 
is  broken  in  twain.  Armar  plunges  into  the  fea,  to  refcue 
his  Daura  or  die.  Sudden  a  blaft  from  the  hill  came  over 
the  waves.     He  funk,  and  he  rofe  no  more. 

Alone  on  the  fea-beat  rock  my  daughter  was  heard  to 
complain.  Frequent  and  loud  vvere  her  cries.  What  could 
her  father  do  ?  All  night  I  ftood  on  the  fhore.  I  faw  her 
by  the  faint  beam  of  the  moon.  All  night  I  heard  her 
cries.  Loud  was  the  wind  ;  the  rain  beat  hard  on  the 
hill.  Before  morning  appeared,  her  voice  was  weak.  It 
died  away,  like  the  evening-breeze  among  the  grafs  of 

the 

*  By  thr  fon  of  the  rock  the  poet  means  the  echoing  back  of  the  human  voice 
from  a  rock..  The  vulgar  were  of  opinion,  that  this  repetition  of  found  was  made 
by  a  fpirit  within  the  rock;  and  they,  on  tliat  account,  called  it  mat  taila;  the  fen 
zoho  divi.lU  in  the  rock. 

t  The  poet  here  only  means  that  Erath  was  Lx)und  with  leathern  thongs. 


The   songs   of   S  elm  a.         139 

the  rocks.  Spent  with  grief  Ihe  expired ;  and  left  thee, 
Armin,  alone:  gone  is  my  ftrength  in  war!  fallen  my  pride 
among  women  !  When  the  ftorms  aloft  arife  :  when  the 
north  lifts  the  wave  on  high ;  I  fit  by  the  founding  fiiore, 
and  look  on  the  fatal  rock.  Often  by  the  fetting  moon  I 
fee  the  ghofls  of  my  children.  Half-viewlefs,  they  walk 
in  mournful  conference  together.  Will  none  of  you  fpeak 
in  pity  ?  They  do  not  regard  their  father.  I  am  fad,  O 
Carmor,  nor  fmall  is  my  caufe  of  woe ! 

Such  were  the  words  of  the  bards  in  the  days  of  fong; 
when  the  king  heard  the  mufic  of  harps,  the  tales  of  other 
times!  The  chiefs  gathered  from  all  their  hills,  and  heard 
the  lovely  found.  They  praifed  the  *  voice  of  Cona !  the 
firil  among  a  thoufand  bards !  But  age  is  now  on  my 
tongue ;  my  foul  has  failed  !  I  hear,  at  times,  the  ghofts 
of  bards,  and  learn  their  pleafant  fong.  But  memory  fails 
on  my  mind.  I  hear  the  call  of  years!  They  fay,  as 
they  pafa  along,  why  does  OfTian  fing  ?  Soon  Ihali  he  lie 
in  the  narrow  houfe,  and  no  bard  fliall  raife  his  fame ! 
Roll  on,  ye  dark-brown  years  ;  ye  bring  no  joy  on  your 
courfe!  Let  the  tomb  open  to  Oflian,  for  his  ftrength  has 
failed.  The  fons  of  fong  are  gone  to  reft.  My  voice  re- 
mains like  a  blaft,  that  roars,  lonely,  on  a  fea-furround- 
ed  rock,  after  the  winds  are  laid.  The  dark  mofs  whiftles 
there  j  the  diftant  mariner  fees  the  waving  trees  ! 

'■'  OJTian  is  fometimes  poetically  called  thi  voice  of  Cona, 


FINGAL: 


F       I       N       G       A       L: 


AN    ANCIENT 


EPIC       POEM. 


In    six    books. 


ARGUMENT. 

Cuthullin,  (general  of  the  Irifii  tribes,  in  the  minority  of  Cormac,  king  of  Ire- 
land) fitting  alone  beneath  a  tree,  at  the  gate  of  Tura,  a  cafile  of  Ulfter,  (the 
other  chiefs  having  gone  on  a  hunting  party  to  Cromla,  a  neighbouring  hill)  is 
informed  of  the  landing  of  Swaran,  king  of  Lochlin,  by  Moran,  the  fon  of  Fi- 
thil,  one  of  his  fcouts.  He  convenes  the  chiefs;  a  council  is  held,  and  difputes 
run  high  about  giving  battle  to  the  enemy.  Connal,  the  petty  king  of  Togorma, 
and  an  intimate  friend  of  Cuthullin,  was  for  retreating  till  Fingal,  king  of  thofe 
Caledonians  who  inhabited  the  north-weft  coaft  of  Scotland,  whofe  aid  had  been 
previoufly  fohcited,  fliould  arrive;  but  Calmar,  the  fon  of  Matha,  lord  of  Lara, 
a  country  in  Connaught,  was  for  engaging  the  enemy  immediately,  Cuthullin,  of 
himfelf  willing  to  fight,  went  into  the  opinion  of  Calraar .  Marching  towards  the 
enemy,  he  miiTed  three  of  his  braveft  heroes,  Fergus,  Duchomar,  and  Cathba. 
Fergus  arriving,  tells  Cuthullin  of  the  death  of  the  two  other  chiefs,  which  in- 
troduces the  affefting  epifode  of  Morna,  the  daughter  of  Cormac.  The  army 
of  Cuthullin  is  defcried  at  a  diftance  by  Swaran,  who  fent  the  fon  of  Arno  to 
obferve  the  motions  of  the  enemy,  while  himfelf  ranged  his  forces  in  order  cf 
battle.  The  fon  of  Arno  returning  to  Swaran,  defcribes  to  him  Cuthullin's  cha- 
riot, and  the  terrible  appearance  of  that  hero.  The  armies  engage,  but  night 
coming  on,  leaves  the  viQory  undecided.  Cuthullin,  according  to  the  hofpi- 
tality  of  the  times,  fends  to  Swaran  a  formal  invitation  to  a  feaft,  by  his  bard  Car- 
ril,  the  fon  of  Kinfena,  Swaran  refufes  to  come,  Carril  relates  to  Cuthullin 
the  flory  of  Grudar  and  Braflblis.  A  party,  by  Connal's  advice,  is  fent  to  obferve 
the  enemy;  which  clofes  the  aclion  of  the  firft  day. 


F       I       N       G       A       L  : 


AN    ANCIENT 


EPIC         POEM. 
BOOK    I. 


CUTHULLIN*  fat  by  TuiVs  wall :  by  the  tree  of 
the  ruftling  found.  His  fpear  leaned  againft  a  rock. 
His  fliield  lay  on  grafs,  by  his  fide.  Amid  his  thoughts  of 
mighty  Carbarf ,  a  hero  flain  by  the  chief  in  war  j  the 
fcout  [|  of  ocean  comes,  Moran§  the  fon  of  Fithil  ! 

"  Arise,"  fays  the  youth,  "  Cuthullin,  arife.  I  fee 
the  (hips  of  the  north  !  Many,  chief  of  men,  are  the  foe  ! 
Many  the  heroes  of  the  fea-borne  Swaran !"  "  Moran  !" 
replied  the  blue-eyed  chief,  "  thou  ever  trembleft,  fon  of 

Fithil ! 

*  Cuthullin  the  fon  of  Semo  and  grandfon  to  Caithbat,  a  draid,  celebrated  in  tra- 
dition for  his  wifdom  and  valour.  CutliuUin  when  very  young  married  Bragela 
the  daughter  of  Sorglan,  and  paffing  over  into  Ireland,  lived  for  fome  time  vt'iih 
Connal,  grandfon  by  a  daughter  to  Congol  the  petty  king  of  Ulller.  His  wifdom 
and  valour  in  a  fliort  time  gained  him  fuch  reputation,  that  in  the  minority  of  Cor- 
mac,  the  fuprcme  king  of  Ireland,  he  was  chofen  guardian  to  the  young  king,  and 
fole  manager  of  the  war  againft  Swaran  king  of  Lochlin.  After  a  feries  of  great 
aftions  he  was  killed  in  battle  fomewherein  Connaught,  in  the  twenty-feventh  year 
of  his  age.  He  was  fo  remarkable  for  his  ftrcngth,  that  to  defcribe  a  ftrong  man 
it  has  paifed  into  a  proverb,  "  He  has  the  ftieugth  of  Cuthulliji."  They  fhow  the 
remains  of  his  palace  at  Dnnfcaich  in  the  ifle  of  Skye;  and  a  ftone  to  which  he 
bound  his  dog  Luath,  goes  (liil  by  his  naHie. 

t  Cairbar  or  Cairbre,  fi";nifies  a  flrong  man. 

11  Cuthullin  having  pre  /ious  intelligence  of  the  invafion  intended  by  Swaranj 
fent  fcouts  all  over  the  coaft  of  Ullin  or  Ulfter,  to  give  early  notice  of  the  firft  ap- 
pearance of  the  enemy,  ac  the  fame  time  that  he  fent  Munan  the  fon  of  Stirmal  to 
implore  the  afiiftance  of  Fin^al.  He  himfelf  colletted  the  flower  of  the  Irifn  youth 
to  Tura,  a  caftle  on  the  coaft,  to  liop  the  progrefs  of  th^  enemy  till  Fingal  fhould 
arrive  from  Scotland.  We  may  conclude  from  Ciuhi  Din's  applying  fo  early  foi 
foreign  aid,  that  the  Irifh  were  noi  then  io  numerous  as  they  have  fince  been ;  which 
is  a  great  prefumption  againft  the  high  antiquities  of  that  people.  We  have  the 
tcftimony  of  Tacitus,  that  one  legion  only  was  tlioaght  fufficient,  in  the  time  of 
Agricola,  lo  reduce  the  whole  Ifland  under  the  Roman  yoke ;  which  v.'ould  not 
probably  have  been  the  cafe  had  the  ifland  been  inhabited  for  any  number  often* 
turies  before. 

^  Moran  figniSes  many;  and  Fithil,  or  rather  Fill,  an  inferior  b^ird 


X44  F    I    N    G    A    L: 

Fithil !  Thy  fears  have  increafed  the  foe.  It  Is  Fingal, 
king*  of  defarts,  with  aid  to  green  Erin  of  flreams."  "  I 
beheld  their  chief,"  fays  Moran,  "  tall  as  a  glittering  rock. 
His  fpear  is  a  blafted  pine  :  his  Ihield  the  rifing  moon !  He 
fat  on  the  Ihore,  like  a  cloud  of  mift  on  the  filent  hill ! 
Many,  chief  of  heroes !  I  faid,  many  are  our  hands  of 
war.  Well  art  thou  named,  the  Mighty  Man  j  but  many 
mighty  men  are  feen  from  Tura's  windy  walls. 

"  He  fpoke,  like  a  wave  on  a  rock,  "  Who  in  this 
land  appears  like  me  ?  Heroes  (land  not  in  my  prefence  z 
they  fall  to  earth  from  my  hand.  Who  can  meet  Swaran 
in  fight  ?  Who  but  Fingal,  king  of  Selma  of  ftorms  ? 
Once  we  wreftled  on  Malmor|;  our  heels  overturned  the 
woods.  Rocks  fell  from  their  place  ;  rivulets,  changing 
their  courfe,  fled  murmuring  from  our  fide  ?  Three  days 
we  renewed  the  ftrife  ;  heroes  flood  at  a  diflance,  and 
trembled.  On  the  fourth,  Fingal  fays,  that  the  king  of 
the  ocean  fell !  but  Swaran  fays,  he  flood  !  Let  dark  Cu- 
thullin  yield  to  him,  that  is  ilrong  as  the  florms  of  his 
land  !" 

"  No  !'*  replied  the  blue-eyed  chief,  "  I  never  yield  to 
mortal  man !  Dark  Cuthullin  fhall  be  great  or  dead  !  Go, 
fon  of  Fithil,  take  my  fpear.  Strike  the  founding  fhield 
ofSemo§.  It  hangs  at  Tura*s  ruftling  gate.  The  found 
of  peace  is  not  its  voice  !  My  heroes  fliall  hear,  and  obey.'* 
He  went.  He  ftruck  the  bofly  fhield.  The  hills,  the  rocks, 
reply.  The  found  fpreads  along  the  wood  :  deer  flart  by 
the  lake  of  roes.  Curachjj  leaps  from  the  founding  rock  ; 
and  Connal  of  the  bloody  fpear  !  Crugal's^  bread  of  fnow 
beats  high.  The  fon  of  Favi  leaves  the  dark-brown  hind. 
It  is  the  fhield  oF  war,  faid  Ronnar  !  the  fpear  of  Cuthul- 
lin, faid  Lugar  !  fon  of  the  fea,  put  on  thy  arms !  Calmar, 

lift 

*  Fingal  the  fon  of  Comhal  and  Morna  the  daughter  of  Thaddu.  His  grandfa- 
ther was  Trathal,  and  great  grandfather  Trenmor,  both  of  whom  are  often  menti- 
oned m  the  poem. 

f  Meal-mor,  a  great  hill. 

^  Cabajt,  or  rather  Cathbait,  grandfather  to  the  hero,  was  fo  remarkable  for  his 
\alour,  that  his  fhield  was  made  ufe  of  to  alarm  his  pofterity  to^thc  battles  of  thp 
lamily.  We  find  Fingal  making  the  fame  ufe  of  his  own  Ihield  in  the  4th  book, 
A.  horn  was  the  moQ  common  inftrument  to  call  the  army  together, 

1|  Cu-raoch  fignifies  the  madnefs  of  battle, 

'^  Cruth-geal,  fair-corapUxioned, 


Book  I.  An  EPIC   POEM.  145 

lift  thy  founding  fteel !  Puno!  dreadful  hero,  arife!  Cair- 
bar,  from  thy  red  tree  of  Cromla!  Bend  thy  knee,  O  Eth; 
defcend  from  the  flreams  of  Lena.  Ca-olt,  ftretch  thy  fide 
as  thou  moved  along  the  whiftling  heath  of  Mora  :  thy 
fide,  that  is  white  as  the  foam  of  the  troubled  fea,  when 
the  dark  winds  pour  it  on  rocky  Cuthon  *. 

Now  I  behold  the  chiefs,  in  the  pride  of  their  former 
deeds !  Their  fouls  are  kindled  at  the  battles  of  old  ;  at 
the  actions  of  other  times.  Their  eyes  are  flames  of  fire. 
They  roll  in  fearch  of  the  foes  of  the  land.  Their  mighty 
hands  are  on  their  fwords.  Lightning  pours  from  their 
fides  of  ileel.  They  come  like  ftreams  from  the  moun- 
tains ;  each  ruflies  roaring  from  his  hill.  Bright  are  the 
chiefs  of  battle,  in  the  armour  of  their  fathers.  Gloomy 
and  dark  their  heroes  follow,  like  the  gathering  of  the 
rainy  clouds  behind  the  red  meteors  of  heaven.  The 
founds  of  crafliing  arms  afcend.  The  grey  dogs  howl 
between.  Unequal  burfts  the  fong  of  battle.  Rocking 
Cromla  f  echoed  round.  On  Lena's  dufl^y  heath  they 
iland,  like  mill  that  fhades  the  hills  of  autumn ;  when 
broken  and  dark  it  fettles  high,  and  lifts  its  head  to  heaven! 

"  Hail,"  faid  Cuthuliin,  "  fons  of  the  narrow  vales  I 
hail,  hunters  of  the  deer!  Another  fport  is  drawing  near: 
It  is  like  the  dark  rolling  of  that  wave  on  the  coaft !  Or 
fhall  we  fight,  ye  fons  of  war  !  or  yield  green  Erin  \\  to 
LochUn !  O  Connal  § ,  fpeak,  thou  firft  of  men  !  thou 
breaker  of  the  ihields !  thou  haft  often  fought  with  Loch- 
lin  :  wilt  thou  lift  thy  father's  fpear  ?" 

"  CuTHULLiN  !"  calm  the  chief  replied,  "  the  fpear 
of  Connal  is  keen.  It  delights  to  fhine  in  battle  j  to  mix 
with  the  blood  of  thoufands.     But  tho'  my  hand  is  bent 

T  on 

*  Cu-thon,  the  mournful  found  of  waves. 

+  Qrom-leach  fignified  a  place  of  worfljip  among  the  Druids.  It  is  here  the  pro- 
per name  of  a  hill  on  the  coaft  of  Ullin  or  Ulfter, 

I  Ireland  fo  called  from  a  colony  that  fettled  there  called  Falans,  Innis-fail, 
the  ifland  of  the  Fa-i!  or  Falans. 

^  Connal,  the  friend  of  Cuthuliin,  was  the  fon  of  Caithbait,  prince  of  the  Ton- 
jrorma  or  the  ifland  of  blue  waves,  probably  one  of  the  Hebrides.  His  mother  was 
Fioncoma  the  daughter  of  Congal.  He  had  a  fon  by  Foba  of  Conachax-neffar,  who 
was  afterwards  petty  king  of  Ulfter.  For  his  fervices  in  the  war  againft  Swaran  he 
had  lands  conferred  on  him,  which,  from  his  name,  were  called  Tir-chonnuil  or 
Tir-connel,  i.  e,  the  lind  of  Connal. 


146 


F    I     N     G     A     L  : 


on  fio-ht,  my  heart  is  for  the  peace  of  Erin*.  Behold, 
thou  firfl  in  Cormac's  war,  the  fable  fleet  of  Swaran.  His 
mails  are  many  on  our  coafl,  like  reeds  in  the  lake  of  Le- 
irc.  His  fhips  are  forefts  cloathed  with  mift,  when  the 
trees  yield  by  turns  to  the  fqually  wind.  Many  are  his 
chiefs  in  battle.  Connal  is  for  peace  !  Fingal  would  fhun 
his  arm,  the  firft  of  mortal  men!  Fingal,  who  fcatters  the 
mighty,  as  ftormy  winds  the  heath ;  when  ftreams  roar 
thro'  echoing  Conaj  and  night  fettles  with  all  her  clouds 
on  the  hill  i" 

"  Fly,  thou  man  of  peace,"  faid  Calmar  f ,  "  fly,'* 
faid  the  fon  of  Matha ;  "  go,  Connal,  to  thy  filent  hills, 
where  the  fpear  never  brightens  in  war!  Purfue  the  dark- 
brown  deer  of  Cromla:  flop  with  thine  arrows  the  bound- 
ing roes  of  Lena.  But,  blue-eyed  fon  of  Semo,  Cuthul- 
lin,  ruler  of  the  field,  fcatter  thou  the  fons  of  Lochlin  || ; 
roar  thro'  the  ranks  of  their  pride.  Let  no  velTel  of  the 
kingdom  of  Snow  bound  on  the  dark-rolling  waves  of 
Inis-tore  § .  Rife,  ye  dark  winds  of  Erin,  rife !  roar,  whirl- 
winds of  Sara  of  hinds  !  Amid  the  tempefl  let  me  die, 
torn,  in  a  cloud,  by  angry  ghofls  of  men ;  amid  the  tem- 
peft  let  Calmar  die,  if  ever  chace  was  fport  to  him,  fo 
much  as  the  battle  of  fliields  !" 

"  Calmar  !"  Connal  flow  replied,  "  I  never  iledy 
young  fon  of  Matha!  I  was  fwift  with  my  friends  in  light 5 
but  fmall  is  the  fame  of  Connal !  The  battle  was  won  in 
my  prefence  ;  the  valiant  overcame  !  But,  fon  of  Semo, 
hear  my  voice ;  regard  the  ancient  throne  of  Cormac. 
Give  wealth  and  half  the  land  for  peace,  till  Fingal  ihall 
arrive  on  our  coafl.  Or,  if  war  be  thy  choice,  I  lift  the 
fword  and  fpear.  My  joy  fliall  be  in  the  midfl  of  thou- 
fands  ;  my  foul  fliall  lighten  thro'  the  gloom  of  the  fight !" 

"  To  me,"  Cuthullin  replies,  "  pleafant  is  the  noife  of 
arms !  pleafant  as  the  thunder  of  heaven,  before  the  fliower 

of 

*  Erin,  a  name  of  Ireland  ;  from  ear  ov  iar  Weil,  und  iti  an  iliand.  This  name 
was  not  always  confined  to  Ireland,  for  there  is  the  higheft  probability  that  the  lane 
of  the  ancients  was  Britain  to  the  North  of  the  Forth.  For  lerne  is  laid  to  be  t© 
the  North  of  Britain,  which  could  not  be  meant  of  Ireland, 

STRABO,  1.  2.  &  4.  CASAUB.  1.  k 

+  Calm-er,  ajlrong  man. 

\[  The  Galic  name  of  Scandinavia  in  general. 

^  The  Orkney  iflands. 


Book  I.  An   EPIC   POEM.  147 

of  fpring  !  But,  gather  all  the  flilning  tribes,  that  I  raay 
view  the  fons  of  war  !  Let  them  pals  along  the  heath, 
bright  as  the  fun-fliine  before  a  ftorm ;  when  the  well 
wind  collects  the  clouds,  and  Morven  echoes  over  all  her 
oaks  !  But  where  are  my  friends  in  battle  ?  the  fupport- 
ers  of  my  arm  in  danger?  Where  art  thou,  white-boibm'd  , 
Cathbar?  Where  is  that  cloud  in  war,  Duchomar  *  ?  Haft 
thou  left  me,  O  Fergus  f  !  in  the  day  of  the  llorm  ?  Fer- 
gus, firll  in  our  joy  at  the  feaft  !  fon  of  Roffa  !  arm  of 
death!  cbmeft  thou  like  a  roe  from  Malmor  ?  like  a  hart 
from  thy  echoing  hills  ?  Flail,  thou  ion  of  Roifa !  what 
ihades  the  foul  of  war  ?'* 

"  Four  fliones  j|,"  replied  the  chief,  "  rife  on  the  grave 
of  Cathba.  Theie  hands  have  laid  in  earth  Duchomar, 
that  cloud  in  war  !  Cathba,  fon  of  Torman  !  thou  wert 
a  fun-beam  in  Erin.  And  thou,  O  vahant  Duchomar,  a 
milt  of  the  marfhy  Fano;  w^hen  it  moves  on  the  plains  of' 
autumn,  bearing  the  death  of  thoufands  along.  Morna! 
fairefl  of  maids!  calm  is  thy  lleep  in  the  cave  of  the  rock! 
Thou  haft  fallen  in  darknefs,  like  a  liar,  that  (hoots  acrofs 
the  defart ;  when  the  traveller  is  alone,  and  mourns  the 
tranfient  beam  1" 

"  Say,"  faid  Semo's  blue-eyed  fon,  "  fay,  how  fell  the 
chiefs  of  Erin  ?  Fell  they  by  the  fons  of  Lochlin,  itriving 
in  the  battle  of  heroes  ?  Ox  what  confines  the  ftrong  in 
arms  to  the  dark  and  narrow  houfe  ?" 

"  Cathba,"  replied  the  hero,  "  fell  by  the  fword  of 
Duchomar  at  the  oak  of  the  noify  ftreams.  Duchomar 
came  to  Tura's  cave ;  he  fpoke  to  the  lovely  Morna. 
Morna  §,  faireft  among  women,  lovely  daughter  of  flrong- 
armed  Corm.a !  v/hy  in  the  circle  of  flones  ?  in  the  cave 
of  the  rock,  alone?  The  dream  murmurs  along.  The  old 
tree  groans  in  the  wind.     The  lake  is  troubled  before 

thee  ', 

*  Dubhchomar,  a  black  tuell-made  man. 

\  Fear-guth,  the  man  nj  the  word;  or  a  commander  of  an  army, 

II  I'his  paffage  alludes  to  the  manner  of  burial  among  the  ancient  Scots.  They 
opened  a  grave  iix  or  eight  feet  deep:  the  bottom  was  lined  ^A/ith  fine  clay:  and 
on  this  they  laid  the  body  of  the  deceafcd,  and,  if  a  warrior,  his  fword,  and  the 
heads  of  twelve  arrows  by  his  fide.  Above  they  laid  another  (Iratum  of  clay,  in 
v.'hich  ihey  placed  the  horn  of  a  deer,  the  fymbol  of  hunting.  The  whole  was  co- 
vered with  a  fine  mold,  and  four  rtoncs  placed  on  end  to  mark  the  extent  of  th.;; 
grave.     Thele  are  the  four  ftones  alluded  to  here. 

^  Muirne,  or  Mornn,  a  zuoman  klovtd  by  all. 


148  F    I    N    G    A    L: 

thee ;  dark  are  the  clouds  of  the  Iky  !  But  thou  art  fnow 
on  the  heath;  thy  hair  is  the  mift  of  Cromla;  when  it  curls 
on  the  hill;  when  it  fhines  to  the  beam  of  the  weft!  Thy 
breafts  are  two  fmooth  rocks  feen  from  Branno  of  ftreams. 
Thy  arms,  like  two  white  pillars,  in  the  halls  of  the  great 
Fingal." 

"  From  whence,"  the  fair-haired  maid  replied,  "  from 
whence,  Duchomar,  moft  gloomy  of  men  ?  Dark  are  thy 
brows  and  terrible!  Red  are  thy  rolling  eyes!  Does  Swa- 
ran  appear  on  the  fea  ?  What  of  the  foe,  Duchomar  ?" 
*^'  From  the  hill  I  return,  O  Morna,  from  the  hill  of  the 
dark-brown  hinds.  Three  have  I  flain  with  my  bended 
yew  ;  three,  with  my  long  bounding  dogs  of  the  chace. 
Lovely  daughter  of  Cormac,  I  love  thee  as  my  foul !  I 
have  flain  one  ftately  deer  for  thee.  High  was  his  branchy 
head  ;  and  fleet  his  feet  of  wind."  "  Duchomar  !"■  calm 
the  maid  replied,  "  I  love  thee  not,  thou  gloomy  man ! 
Hard  is  thy  heart  of  rock;  dark  is  thy  terrible  brow.  But 
Cathba,  young  fon  of  Torman  *,  thou  art  the  love  of 
Morna.  Thou  art  a  fun-beam,  in  the  day  of  the  gloomy 
ftorm.  Saweft  thou  the  fon  of  Torman,  lovely  on  the  hill 
of  his  hinds  ?  Here  the  daughter  of  Cormac  waits  the 
coming  of  Cathba !" 

"  Long  fliall  Morna  wait,"  Duchomar  faid  ;  "  long 
fliall  Morna  wait  for  Cathba!  Behold  this  fword  unflieath- 
ed!  Here  wanders  the  blood  of  Cathba.  Long  fliall  Mor- 
na wait.  He  fell  by  the  ftream  of  Branno  !  On  Croma  I 
will  raife  his  tomb,  daughter  of  blue-fliielded  Cormac  I 
Turn  on  Duchomar  thine  eyes ;  his  arm  is  ftrofig  as  a 
florm."  "  Is  the  fon  of  Torman  fallen  ?"  faid  the  wildly 
burfting  voice  of  the  maid.  "  Is  he  fallen  on  his  echoing 
hills,  the  youth  with  the  breaft  of  fnow  ?  the  firft  in  the 
chace  of  hinds?  the  foe  of  the  ftrangers  of  ocean  ."*  Thou 
art  dark-f-  to  me,  Duchomar,  cruel  is  thine  arm  to  Mor- 
na !  Give  me  that  fword,  my  foe  !  I  love  the  wandering 
blood  of  Cathba !" 

"  He  gave  the  fword  to  her  tears.  She  pierced  his  manly 

breaft  ! 

*  Torman,  thunder.     This  is  the  true  origin  of  the  Jupiter  Taramis  of  the  an- 
cients. 

t  She  alludes  to  his  name,  the  dark  man. 


Book  I.  An  EPIC   POEM.  149 

bread  !  He  fell,  like  the  bank  of  a  mountain-ilream,  and 
ftretching  forth  his  hand,  he  fpoke.  "  Daughter  of  blue- 
fhielded  Cormac  !  thou  haft  flain  me  in  youth  !  The 
fword  is  cold  in  my  breaft  ;  Morna,  I  feel  it  cold.  Give 
me  to  Moina  *  the  maid.  Duchomar  was  the  dream  of 
her  night  !  She  will  raife  my  tomb ;  the  hunter  (hall  raife 
my  fame.  But  draw  the  fword  from  my  breaft.  Morna, 
the  fteel  is  cold  !"  She  came,  in  all  her  tears,  fhe  came ; 
fhe  drew  the  fword  from  his  breaft.  He  pierced  her  white 
fide !  He  fpread  her  fair  locks  on  the  ground !  Her  burft- 
ing  blood  founds  from  her  fide:  her  white  arm  is  ftained 
with  red.  Rolling  in  death  flie  lay.  The  cave  re-echoed 
to  her  fighs.'* 

"  Peace,"  faid  Cuthullin,  "  to  the  fouls  of  the  heroes! 
their  deeds  were  great  in  fight.  Let  them  ride  around  | 
me  on  clouds.  Let  them  fhew  their  features  of  war.  My 
foul  ftiall  then  be  firm  in  danger;  mine  arm  like  the  thun- 
der of  heaven  !  But  be  thou  on  a  moon-beam,  O  Morna! 
near  the  window  of  my  reft ;  when  my  thoughts  are  of 
peace;  when  the  din  of  arms  is  paft.  Gather  the  ftrength 
of  the  tribes  !  Move  to  the  wars  of  Erin  !  Attend  the  car 
of  my  battles  1  Rejoice  in  the  noife  of  my  courfe  !  Place 
three  fpears  by  my  fide:  follow  the  bounding  of  my  fteeds! 
That  my  foul  may  be  ftrong  in  my  friends,  when  battle 
darkens  round  the  beams  of  my  fteel  !" 

As  ruflies  a  ftream  of  foam  from  the  dark  fhady  deep 
of  Cromla ;  when  the  thunder  is  travelling  above,  and 
dark-brown  night  (its  on  half  the  hill  :  through  the 
breaches  of  the  tempeft  look  forth  the  dim  faces  of  ghofts; 
fo  fierce,  fo  vaft,  fo  terrible  ruflied  on  the  fons  of  Erin. 
The  chief,  like  a  whale  of  ocean,  whom  all  his  billows 
purfue,  poured  valour  forth,  as  a  ftream,  rolling  his  might 
along  the  fhore.  The  fons  of  Lochlin  heard  the  noife,  as 
the  found  of  a  winter-ftorm.  Swaran  ftruck  his  boffy 
ftiield:  he  called  the  fon  of  Arno,  "  What  murmur  rolls 
along  the  hill,  like  the  gathered  flies  of  the  eve  ?  The 
fons   of  Erin  defcend,    or  ruftling   winds    roar   in  the 

diftant 

*  Moina,  foft  in  temper  and  per/on. 

\  It  was  the  opinion  then,  as  ind-ied  it  is  to  this  day,  of  fome  of  the  Highland- 
ers, that  the  fouls  of  the  deceafed  hovered  round  their  living  friends;  and  fome- 
times  appeared  to  them  when  they  were  about  to  enter  on  any  great  undertaking. 


i^o  F    I    N     G     A    L  : 

diftant  wood !  Such  is  the  nolfe  of  Gormal,  before  the 
white  tops  of  my  waves  arife.  O  fon  of  Arno,  afcend  the 
hill ;  view  the  dark  face  of  the  heath  ! 

He  went.  He,  trembling,  fwift  returned.  His  eyes  rol- 
led wildly  round.  His  heart  beat  high  againft  his  fide. 
His  words  were  faultering,  broken,  flow.  "  Arife,  fon  of 
ocean,  arife,  chief  of  the  dark-brown  fliields  !  I"  fee  the 
dark,  the  mountain  ftream  of  battle  !  the  deep-moving 
flrength  of  the  fons  of  Erin !  The  car,  the  car  of  war 
comes  on,  like  the  flame  of  death!  the  rapid  car  of  Cuthul- 
lin,  the  noble  fon  of  Semo !  It  bends  behind  like  a  wave 
near  a  rock ;  like  the  fun-ftreaked  niift  of  the  heath.  Its 
fides  are  embofTed  with  (tones,  and  fparkle  like  the  fea 
round  the  bout  of  night.  Of  poliflied  yew  is  its  beam  ; 
its  feat  of  the  fmootheil  bone.  The  fides  are  replenifned 
with  fpears;  the  bottom  is  the  fooLllool  of  heroes!  Before 
the  right  fide  of  the  car  is  feen  the  fnorting  horfe !  The 
high-nianed,  broad-breafted,  proud,  wide-leaping,  ftrong 
fteed  of  the  hill.  Loud  and  refounding  is  his  hoof:  the 
fpreading  of  his  mane  above  is  like  a  ftream  of  fmoke  on 
a  ridge  of  rocks.  Bright  are  the  fides  of  the  fteed  !  his 
jiame  is  Sulin-Sifadda ! 

''  Before  the  left  fide  of  the  car  is  feen  the  fnorting 
horfe !  The  thin-maned,  high-headed,  ftrong  hoofed, 
fleet,  bounding  fon  of  the  hill :  his  name  is  Dufronnal, 
among  the  ftormy  fons  of  the  fword  !  A  thoufand  thongs 
bind  the  car  on  high.  Hard  polillred  bits  fliine  in  a  wreath 
of  foam.  Thin  thongs,  bright  ftudded  with  gems,  bend 
on  the  ftately  necks  of  the  fteeds  ;  the  fteeds  that,  like 
wreathes  of  mift,  fly  over  the  ftreamy  vales!  The  wildnefs 
of  deer  is  in  their  courfe,  the  ftrength  of  eagles  defcending 
on  the  prey.  Their  noife  is  like  the  biaft  of  winter,  on 
the  fides  of  the  fnow-headed  Gormal. 

"  Within  the  car  is  feen  the  chief;. the  ftrong-armed  fon 
of  the  fword.  The  hero's  name  is  Cuthuilin,  fon  of  Semo 
king  of  (liells.  His  red  cheek  is  like  my  polifhed  yew. 
The  look  of  his  blue-rolling  eye  is  wide,  beneath  the  dark 
arch  of  his  brow.  His  hair  flies  from  his  head  like  a  iiame, 
as  bending  forward  he  wields  the  fpear.  Fly,  king  of 
ocean,  fly!  He  comes,  Hke  a  ftorm,  along  the  llreamy  vale!" 

"  Wh£N 


Book  I.  An   EPIC    POEM.  151 

"  When  did  I  fly,"  replied  the  king?  "When  fled 
Swaran  from  the  battle  of  fpears  ?  When  did  I  Ihrink 
from  danger,  chief  of  the  little  foul  ?  I  met  the  ftorm  of 
Gormal,  when  the  foam  of  my  waves  beat  high.  I  met 
the  ftorm  of  the  clouds  :  fliall  Swaran  fly  from  a  hero  ? 
Were  Fingal  himfelf  before  me,  my  foul  fliould  not  dark- 
en with  fear.  Afife  to  battle,  my  thoufands!  pour  round 
me  like  the  echoing  main.  Gather  round  the  bright  fteel 
of  your  king ;  ftrong,  as  the  rocks  of  my  land,  that  meet 
the  ftorm  with  joy,  and  ftretch  their  dark  pines  to  the 
wind!" 

Like  autumn's  dark  ftorms,  pouring  from  two  echoing 
hills,  toward  each  other  approached  the  heroes.  Like 
two  deep  ftreams  from  high  rocks  meeting,  mixing,  roar- 
ing on  the  plain ;  loud,  rough  and  dark  in  battle  meet 
Lochlin  and  Inis-fail.  Chief  mixes  his  ftrokes  with  chief, 
and  man  with  man ;  fteel,  clanging,  founds  on  fteel.  Hel- 
mets are  cleft  on  high.  Blood  burfts  and  fmokes  around. 
Strings  murmur  on  the  poliflied  yews.  Darts  rufii  along 
the  {kj.  Spears  fall  like  the  circles  of  light,  which  gild 
the  face  of  night.  As  the  noife  of  the  troubled  ocean, 
when  roll  the  waves  on  kigh  :  as  the  laft  peal  of  thunder 
in  heaven,  fuch  is  the  din  of  war!  Though  Cormac*s  hun- 
dred bards  were  there,  to  give  the  fight  to  fong ;  feeble 
was  the  voice  of  a  hundred  bards  to  fend  the  deaths  to 
future  times !  For  many  were  the  deaths  of  heroes;  wide 
poured  the  blood  of  the  brave ! 

Mourn,  ye  Tons  of  fong,  mourn  the  death  of  the  noble 
Sithallin  *.  Let  the  fighs  of  Fiona  rife,  on  the  lone 
plains  of  her  lovely  Ardan.  ^  They  fell,  like  two  hinds  of 
the  defart,  by  the  hands  of  the  mighty  Swaran;  when,  in 
the  midft  of  thoufands,  he  roared,  like  the  flirill  fpirit  of 
a  ftorm.  He  fits  dim,  on  the  clouds  of  the  north,  and 
enjoys  the  death  of  the  mariner.  Nor  flept  thy  hand  by 
thy  lide,  chief  of  the  ifle  of  mift  f !  many  were  the  deaths 
of  thine  arm,  Cathullin,  thou  fon  of  Semo !  His  fword 
was  like  the  beam  of  heaven,  when  it  pierces  the  fons  ot 

the 

*  S'lihaWin  r\gniBss  a /2andfome7nan;  Fiona,  a  fair  maid \  and  Ardan,  pndi. 
\  The  Ifle  of  Sky  ;   not  improperly  called  ihe  "ijle  ofviijl,  as  its  high  hills,  wiitcl'. 
catch  the  clouds  from  the  weltcrn  ocean,  occafion  almoft  coalinuj.!  tains. 


1^2  F    I    N    G    A    L  : 

the  vale ;  when  the  people  are  blafted  and  fall,  and  all 
the  hills  are  burning  around.  Dufronnal  *  fnorted  over 
the  bodies  of  heroes.  Sifadda  |  bathed  his  hoof  in  blood* 
The  battle  lay  behind  them,  as  groves  overturned  on  the 
defart  of  Cromla  ;  when  the  blaft  has  paffed  the  heath, 
laden  with  the  fpirits  of  night ! 

Weep  on  the  rocks  of  roaring  winds,  O  maid  of  Ini- 
ftore  II !  Bend  thy  fair  head  over  the  waves,  thou  lovelier 
than  the  ghoft  of  the  hills;  when  it  moves,  in  a  fun-beam, 
at  noon,  over  the  filence  of  Morven  !  He  is  fallen  !  thy 
youth  is  low  !  pale  beneath  the  fword  of  Cuthullin  !  No 
more  fhall  valour  raife  thy  love  to  match  the  blood  of 
kings.  Trenar,  graceful  Trenar  died,  O  maid  of  Iniftore* 
His  grey  dogs  are  howling  at  home ;  they  fee  his  paiTing 
ghoft.  His  bow  is  in  the  hall  unftrung.  No  found  is  in 
the  hill  of  his  hinds ! 

As  roll  a  thoufand  waves  to  the  rocks,  fo  Swaran's  hoft 
came  on.  As  meets  a  rock  a  thoufand  waves,  fo  Erin 
met  Swaran  of  fpears.  Death  raifes  all  his  voices  around, 
and  mixes  with  the  founds  of  lliields.  Each  hero  is  a  pillar 
of  darknefs;  the  fword,  a  beam  of  fire  in  his  hand.  The 
field  echoes  from  wing  to  wing,  as  a  hundred  hammers 
that  rife,  by  turns,  on  the  red  fon  of  the  furnace.  Who 
are  thefe  on  Lena's  heath,  thefe  fo  gloomy  and  dark  ? 
Who  are  thefe  like  two  clouds,  and  their  fwords  like  light- 
ning above  them  ?  The  little  hills  are  troubled  around  ; 
the  rocks  tremble  with  all  their  mofs.  Who  is  it  but 
ocean's  fon,  and  the  car-borne  chief  of  Erin  ?  Many  are 
the  anxious  eyes  of  their  friends,  as  they  fee  them  dim  on 
the  heath.  But  night  conceals  the  chiefs  in  clouds,  and 
ends  the  dreadful  fight ! 

It  was  on  Ci omla's  ihaggy  fide  that  Dorglas  had  placed 

the 

"'  One  of  Cuthullin's  horfcs.     Dubhdron  glieal. 

+  Sith-fadda,  i.  e.  &  long  flride. 

\  The  maid  of  Inifiore  was  the  daughter  of  Golro  king  of  Inlftore  or  Orkney 
Iflands.  Trenar  was  brother  to  the  king  of  Inifcon,  fuppofed  to  be  one  of  the 
iflands  of  Shetland.  The  Orkneys  and  Shetland  were  at  that  time  fubjeft  to  the 
king  of  Lochlin.  We  find  that  the  dogs  of  Trenar  are  fenfible  at  home  of  the 
death  of  their  raafter,  the  very  inflant  he  is  killed.  It  was  the  opinion  of  the  times, 
that  the  fouls  of  heroes  went  immediately  after  death  to  the  hills  of  their  country, 
and  the  tcenes  they  frequented  the  moft  happy  time  of  their  life.  It  was  thoughi 
too  that  do-i;s  and  horfcs  faw  the  jihofls  of  the  deceafed. 


Book  I.         An  EPIC    POEM.  153 

the  deer*  ;  the  early  fortune  of  the  chace,  before  the  he- 
roes left  the  hill.  A  hundred  youths  colled  the  heath  ; 
ten  warriors  wake  the  fire  ;  three  hundred  chufe  the  po- 
lifh'd  Hones.  The  feaft  is  fmoking  widel  CuthuUin,  chief 
of  Erin's  war,  refumed  his  mighty  foul.  He  flood  upon 
his  beamy  fpear,  and  fpoke  to  the  fon  of  fongs;  to  Carril 
of  other  times,  the  grey-haired  fon  of  Kinfena  |.  "  Is 
this  feaft  fpread  for  me  alone,  and  the  king  of  Lochlin  on 
Erin's  Ihore ;  far  from  the  deer  of  his  hills,  and  founding 
halls  of  his  feafts  ?  Rife,  Carril  of  other  times ;  carry  my 
words  to  Swaran.  Tell  him,  from  the  roaring  of  waters, 
that  Cuthullin  gives  his  feaft.  Here  let  him  liften  to  the 
found  of  my  groves,  amidft  the  clouds  of  night  ;  for  cold 
and  bleak  the  bluftering  winds  rufh  over  the  foam  of  his 
feas.  Here  let  him  praife  the  trembling  harp,  and  hear 
the  fongs  of  heroes  !" 

Old  Carril  went,  with  fofteft  voice.  He  called  the 
king  of  dark-brown  ftiields  !  "  Rife  from  the  fkins  of  thy 
chace,  rife,  Swaran  king  of  groves  !  Cuthullin  gives  the 
joy  of  ftiells.  Partake  the  feaft  of  Erin's  blue-eyed  chief!'* 
He  anfwered  like  the  fullen  found  of  Cromla  before  a 
ftorm.  "  Though  all  thy  daughters,  Inis-fail  !  fhould 
ftretch  their  arms  of  fnow ;  fhould  raife  the  heavings  of 
their  breafts,  and  foftly  roll  their  eyes  of  love ;  yet,  fixed 
as  Lochlin's  thoufand  rocks,  here  Swaran  fhould  remain; 
till  morn,  with  the  young  beams  of  the  eaft,  fhall  light 
me  to  the  death  of  Cuthullin,  Pleafant  to  my  ear  is  Loch- 
lin's wind !  It  rufhes  over  my  feas  !  It  fpeaks  aloft  in  all 
my  fhrouds,  and  brings  my  green  forefls  to  my  mind  : 
The  green  forefts  of  Gormal,  which  often  echoed  to  my 
winds,  when  my  fpear  was  red  in  the  chace  of  the  boar. 
Let  dark  Cuthullin  yield  to  me  the  ancient  throne  of  Cor- 

U  mac  j 

*  The  ancient  manner  of  preparing  feafls  after  hunting,  is  handed  down  by  tra- 
dition. A  pit  lined  with  Imooth  ftones  was  made;  and  near  it  flood  a  heap  of 
fmooth  flat  flones  of  the  flint  kind.  The  ftones  as  well  as  the  pit  were  propcrlv 
heated  with  heath.  Then  they  laid  fome  venifon  in  the  bottom,  and  a  ftratum  of 
the  ftones  above  it ;  and  thus  they  did  alternately  till  the  pit  was  full.  The  whole 
was  covered  over  with  heath  to  confine  the  fleam.  Whether  this  is  probable,  I 
cannot  fay ;  but  fome  pits  are  fliewn,  which  the  vulgar  fav,  v/ere  ui'ed  ia  that 
manner. 

+  Cean-feana,  L  e.  the  head  of  the  people. 


■i54  F     I     N     G     A     L  ^ 

mac ;  or  Erin's  torrents  fhall  iliew  from  their  hills  the  red 
foam  of  the  blood  of  his  pride  !" 

"  Sad  is  the  found  of  Swaran's  voice,"  faid  Carril  of 
other  times !  "  Sad  to  himfelf  alone,"  faid  the  blue-eyed 
fon  of  Semo.  "  But,  Carril,  raife  the  voice  on  high  ; 
tell  the  deeds  of  other  times.  Send  thou  the  night  away 
in  fong;  and  give  the  joy  of  grief.  .  For  many  heroes  and 
maids  of  love  have  moved  on  Inis-fail :  And  lovely  are 
the  fongs  of  woe  that  are  heard  in  Albion's  rocks;  when 
the  noife  of  the  chace  is  pail,  and  the  ftreams  of  Cona 
anfwer  to  the  voice  of  Oflian.*" 

"  In  other  daysj,"  Carril  replies,  "  came  the  fons  of 
ocean  to  Erin.  A  thoufand  veilels  bounded  on  waves  to 
Ullin's  lovely  plains.  The  fons  of  Inis-fail  arofe,  to  meet 
the  race  of  dark-brown  fhields.  Cairbar,  firfl  of  men  ! 
was  there  ;  and  Grudar,  llately  youth  !  Long  had  they 
ftrove  for  the  fpotted  bull,  that  lowed  on  Golbun's  ||  echo- 
ing heath.  Each  claimed  him  as  his  own.  Death  was  often 
•at  the  point  of  their  Heel.  Side  by  fide  the  heroes  fought : 
the  ilrangers  of  ocean  fled.  Whofe  name  was  fairer  on 
the  hill,  than  the  name  of  Cairbar  and  Grudar  ?  But,  ah ! 
why  ever  lowed  the  bull  an  Golbun's  echoing  heath  ? 
They  faw  him  leaping  like  fnow  :  the  wrath  of  the  chiels 
returned  ! 

"  On  Lubar's§  graffy  banks  they  fought:  Grudar  fell 
in  his  blood.  Fierce  Cairbar  came  to  the  vale,  where 
Braifolis^,  faired  of  his  filters,  all  alone,  raifed  the  fong 
of  grief.  She  fung  of  the  actions  of  Grudar,  the  youth  ot 
her  fecret  foui :  fhe  mourned  him  in  the  field  of  blood  ; 
but  (till  fhe  hoped  for  his  return.  Her  white  bofom  is 
leen  from  her  robe,  as  the  moon  from  the  clouds  of  night, 

when 

*  The  Cona  here  mentioned  is  that  fmaU  river  that  ran*  through  Glenco  in  Ar- 
oylediire.  One  of  ihc  hills  which  environ  that  romantic  valley  is  flill  called  Scor- 
nafena,  or  the  hill  of  Fingal's  people. 

+  71iis  cpifode  is  introduced  with  propriety.  Calmar  and  Connal,  two  of  the 
Irifh  heroes,  had  difpuied  warmly  before  the  battle  about  engaging  the  enemy. 
Canil  endcavouis  to  reconcile  them  with  the  ftory  of  Caiibar  and  Grudar;  who, 
tho' enemies  before,  iought  Jide  I^v  Jide  mihe  war.  The  poet  obtained  his  aim, 
for  we  fmd  Calmar  and  Connal  perfeflly  leconcilcd  in  the  third  book. 

(i  Golb-bhean,   as  well  as  Cromleach,  i]';^iu{'}es  a  crocked  fitli. 

\  Lubar,  a  river  in  Ulfler,     Labliar,  loud,  noily. 

5  BrafTolis  fignifics  a  woman  witli  a  white  brcifi. 


Book  I.  An   EPIC    POEM.  155 

when  its  edge  heaves  white  on  the  view,  from  the  dark- 
nefs  which  covers  its  orb.  Her  voice  was  fofter  than  the 
harp,  to  raife  the  fong  of  grief.  Her  foul  was  fixed  on 
Grudar.  The  fecret  look  of  her  eye  was  his.  "  When 
flialt  thou  come  in  thine  arms,  thou  mighty  in  the  war  ?'' 

"  Take,  Braflfolis,"  Cairbar  ca^ne  and  faid,  "  take, 
BralTolis,  this  fliieid  of  blood.  Fix  it  on  high  within  my 
hall,  the  armour  of  my  foe  1**  Her  foft  heart  beat  againft 
her  fide.  Diflrafted,  pale,  fhe  flevv\  She  found  her  youth 
in  all  his  blood  :  fhe  died  on  Cronila's  heath.  Here  reiis 
their  duft,  Cuthullin  :  thefe  lonely  yews  fprung  from 
their  tombs,  and  ihade  them  from  the  ftorm.  Fair  was 
Braffolis  on  the  plain !  Stately  was  Grudar  on  the  hill  ! 
The  bard  fhall  preferve  their  names,  and  lend  ihem  down 
to  future  times  !" 

"  Pleasant  is  thy  voice,  O  Carril  !"  laid  the  blue- 
eyed  chief  of  Erin.  "  Pleafant  are  the  words  of  other 
times  !  They  are  like  the  calm  fhower  of  fpring ;  when 
the  fun  looks  on  the  field,  and  the  light  cloud  flies  over 
the  hills.  O  ftrike  the  harp  in  praife  of  my  love,  the 
lonely  fun-beam  of  Dunfcaith,  Strike  the  harp  In  praife 
of  Bragela ;  (lie  that  I  left  in  the  ifle  of  mid,  the  fpoufe 
of  Semo's  fon ! — Doft  thou  raife  thy  fair  face  from  the 
rock,  to  find  the  fails  of  Cuthullin  ?  The  fea  is  roUing 
diilant  far  ;  its  white  foam  deceives  thee  for  my  fails. 
Retire,  for  it  is  night,  my  love  ;  the  dark  winds  figh  in 
thy  hair. .  Retire  to  the  halls  of  my  feafts  ;  think  of  the 
times  that  are  paft.  I  v/ill  not  return  till  the  Iform  of  war 
is  ceafed.  O  Connal,  fpeak  of  war  and  arms,  and  fend 
her  from  my  mind.  Lovely,  with  her  flowing  hair,  is  the 
white-bofomed  daughter  of  Sorglan." 

CoNNAL,  flow  to  fpeak,  replied,  "  Guard  againft  the 
race  of  ocean.  Send  thy  troop  of  night  abroad,  and 
watch  the  ftrength  of  Swaran.  Cuthullin  !  I  am  for 
peace,  till  the  race  of  Selma  come ;  till  Fingal  come,  the 
firft  of  men  !  and  beam,  like  the  fun,  on  our  fields."  The 
hero  ftruck  the  fhield  of  alarms;  the  warriors  of  the  night 
moved  on.   The  reft  lay  in  the  heath  of  the  deer,  and  flept 

beneath 


156  F    I    N     G     A    L. 

beneath  the  dulky  wind.  The  ghofls*  of  the  lately  dead 
were  near,  and  fwam  on  the  gloomy  clouds :  And,  far 
diftant,  in  the  dark  filence  of  Lena,  the  feeble  voices  of 
death  were  faintly  heard. 

*  It  was  long  the  opinion  of  the  ancient  Scots,  that  a  ghofl  was  heard  fhrieking 
near  the  place  where  a  death  was  to  happen  foon  after.  The  accounts  given,  to 
this  day,  among  the  vulgar,  of  this  extraordinary  matter,  are  very  poetical.  The 
g;hoft  comes  mounted  on  a  meteor,  and  furrounds  twice  or  thrice  the  place  deftined 
for  the  perfon  to  die ;  and  then  goes  along  the  road  through  which  the  funeral  is  to 
pafs,  fhrieking  at  intervals ;  at  laft,  the  meteor  and  ghoft  difappear  above  the  bu- 
rial place. 


FINGAL: 


F       I       N       G       A       L 

AN     ANCIENT 

EPIC         POEM. 
BOOK    II. 


ARGUMENT. 

THE  ghoft  of  Crugal,  one  of  the  Irlfh  heroes  who  was  killed  in  battle,  appearing 
to  Connal,  foretels  the  defeat  of  Cuthullin  in  the  next  battle ;  and  earneftly  ad- 
vifes  him  to  make  peace  with  Swaran.  Connal  communicates  the  vifion ;  but 
Cuthullin  is  inflexible ;  from  a  principle  of  honour  he  woald  not  be  the  fiift  to 
fue  for  peace,  and  he  refolved  to  continue  the  war.  Morning  comes ;  Swaran 
propofes  difhonourable  terms  to  Cuthullin,  which  are  reje£led.  The  battle  be- 
gins, and  is  obftinately  fought  for  fome  time,  until,  upon  the  flight  of  Grumal, 
the  whole  Irifii  army  gave  way.  Cuthullin  and  Connal  cover  their  retreat : 
Carril  leads  them  to  a  neighbouring  hill,  whither  they  are  foon  followed  by  Cu; 
thullin  himfelf,  who  defcries  the  fleet  of  Fingal  making  towards  the  coaft;  but, 
night  coming  on,  he  loft  fight  of  it  again.  Cuthullin,  dejefled  after  his  defeat, 
attributes  his  ill  fuccefs  to  the  death  of  Ferdahis  friend,  whom  he  had  killed 
fome  time  before.  Carril,  to  fliew  that  ill  fuccefs  did  not  always  attend  thof« 
who  innocently  killed  their  friends,  introduces  the  epifode  of  Comal  and  Galvina. 


CONNAL*  lay  by  the  found  of  the  mountain  jflream, 
beneath  the  aged  tree.  A  flone,  with  its  mofs,  fup- 
ported  his  head.  Shrill,  through  the  heath  of  Lena,  he 
heard  the  voice  of  night.  At  diftance  from  the  heroes  he 
lay  ;  the  fon  of  the  fword  feared  no  foe  ! — The  hero  be- 
held, in  his  reft,  a  dark-red  ftream  of  fire  rulhing  down 
from  the  hill.  Crugal  fat  upon  the  beam ;  a  chief  who 
fell  in  fight.  He  fell  by  the  hand  of  Swaran,  ftriving  in 
the  battle  of  heroes.    His  face  is  like  the  beam  of  the 

fetting 

*  The  fcene  here  defcribed  will  appear  natural  to  thofe  who  have  been  in  the 
highlands  of  Scotland.  The  poet  removes  him  to  a  diftance  from  the  armv,  to  add 
more  horror  to  the  delcription  of  Crugal's  ghoft  by  the  lonelinefs  of  the  place. 


1^8  F    I     N    G     A    L  : 

fettinff  moon.  His  robes  are  of  the  clouds  of  the  hill. 
His  eyes  are  two  decaying  flames.  Dark  is  the  wound  of 
his  breaft.  "  Crugal,"  faid  the  mighty  Connal,  "  foil 
of  Dedgal,  famed  on  the  hill  of  hinds  !  why  fo  pale  and 
fad,  thou  breaker  of  the  fliields  ?  Thou  haft  never  been 
pale  for  fear  !  What  difturbs  the  departed  Crugal?'*  Dim, 
and  in  tears,  he  ftood,  and  ftretched  his  pale  hand  over 
the  hero.  Faintly  he  raifed  his  feeble  voice,  like  the  gale 
of  the  reedy  Lego  ! 

"  My  fpirit,  Connal,  is  on  my  hills :  my  corfe  on  the 
fands  of  Erin.  Thou  Ihalt  never  talk  with  Crugal,  nor 
find  his  lone  fteps  on  the  heath.  I  am  light  as  the  blaft 
of  Cromla— I  move  like  the  fhadow  of  mift  !  Connal,  Con 
of  Colgar,  I  fee  a  cloud  of  death  :  it  hovers  dark  over  the 
plains  of  Lena.  The  fon.3  of  green  Erin  muft  fall.  Re- 
move from  the  field  of  ghoits.'*  Like  the  darkened  moon, 
he  retired,  in  the  midil  of  the  whiftling  blaft.  "  Stay," 
faid  the  mighty  Connal,  "  ftay,  my  dark-red  friend.  Lay 
by  that  beam  of  heaven,  fon  of  the  windy  Cromla !  What 
cave  is  thy  lonely  houfe  ?  What  green-headed  hill  the 
place  of  thy  repofe  ?  Shall  we  not  hear  thee  in  the  ftorm  ? 
- — in  the  noife  of  the  mountain-ftream  ? — ^\vhen  the  feeble 
fons  of  the  wind  come  forth,  and,  fcarccly  feen,  pafs  over 
the  defart  ?" 

The  foft-voiced  Connal  rofe,  in  the  midft  of  his  found- 
ing arms.  He  ftruck  his  fhield  above  Cuthullin.  The 
fon  of  battle  waked.  "  Why,"  faid  the  ruler  of  the  car, 
"  comes  Connal  through  my  night  ?  My  fpear  might  turn 
againft  the  found  ;  and  Cuthullin  mourn  the  death  of  his 
friend.  Speak,  Connal;  fon  of  Colgar,  fpeak ;  thy  coun- 
fel  is  the  fun  of  heaven  !"  "  Son  .of  Semo  !"  replied  the 
chief,  "  the  ghoft  of  Crugal  came  from  his  cave.  The 
liars  dim-twinkled  through  his  form.  His  voice  was  like 
the  found  of  a  diftant  ftream.  He  is  a  meifenger  of  death  ! 
He  fpeaks  of  the  dark  and  narrow  houfe  !  Sue  for  peace, 
O  chief  of  Erin  !  or  fly  over  the  heath  of  Lena." 

"  He  fpoke  to  Connal,"  replied  the  hero,  "  though 
ftars  dim-twinkled  through  his  form ! — Son  of  Colgar,  it 
was  the  wind  that  murmured  acrofs  thy  ear.     Or,  if  it 

was 


Book  II.        An   EPIC    POEM.  159 

was  the  form*  of  Crugal,  why  didil  thou  not  force  him 
to  my  fight  ?  Haft  thou  enquired  where  is  his  cave  ?  the 
houfe  of  that  fon  of  wind  ?  My  fword  might  find  that 
voice,  and  force  his  knowledge  from  Crugal.  But  fmaii 
is  his  knowledge,  Connal.  He  vv^as  here  to-day  :  he  could 
not  have  gone  beyond  our  hills  !  who  could  tell  him  there 
of  our  fall  ?"  "  Ghofts  fly  on  clouds  and  ride  on  winds,'* 
faid  Connal's  voice,  of  wifdom.  "  They  reft  together  in 
their  caves,  and  talk  of  mortal  men." 

"  Then  let  them  talk  of  mortal  men  ;  of  every  man 
but  Erin's  chief.  Let  me  be  forgot  in  their  cave.  I  will 
not  fly  from  Swaran  !  If  fall  I  muft,  my  tomb  fliall  rife, 
amidft  the  fame  of  future  times.  The  hunter  fliall  flied  a 
tear  on  my  ftone  ;  forrow  fliall  dwell  round  the  high- 
bofomed  Bragela.  I  fear  not  death  :  to  fly  I  fear  !  Fin- 
gal  has  feen  me  victorious  ! Thou  dim  phantom  of 

the  hill,  fliew  thyfelf  to  me  !  Come  on  thy  beam  of  hea- 
ven, fliew  me  my  death  in  thine  hand ;  yet  I  will  not  fly, 

thou  feeble  fon  of  the  wind  !■ Go,  fon  of  Colgar,  ftrike 

the  fliield.  It  hangs  between  the  fpears.  Let  my  warriors 
rife  to  the  found,  in  the  midft  of  the  battles  of  Erin. 
Though  Fingal  delays  his  coming,  with  the  race  of  his 
ftormy  ifles  ;  we  fliall  fight,  O  Colgar's  fon,  and  die  in 
the  battle  of  heroes  !" 

The  found  fpreads  wide.  The  heroes  rife,  like  the 
breaking  of  a  blue-rolling  wave.  They  ftood  on  the  heath, 
like  oaks  with  all  their  branches  round  them  ;  when  they 
echo  to  the  ftream  of  froft,  and  their  withered  leaves  are 
ruftling  to  the  wind  !  High  Cromla's  head  of  clouds  is 
grey.  Morning  trembles  on  the  half-enlightened  ocean. 
The  blue  mift  fwims  flowly  by,  and  hides  the  fons  of 
Inis-fail. 

"  Rise  ye,"  faid  the  king  of  the  dark-brown  fhieids, 
"  ye  that  came  from  Lochlin's  waves.  The  fons  of  Erin 
have  fled  from  our  arms  ;  purfue  them  over  the  plains  of 
Lena  !  Morla,  go  to  Cormac's  hall.  Bid  them  yield  to 
Swaran ;  before  his  people  fmk  to  the  tomb,  and  filence 

fpread 

*  The  poet  teaches  us  the  opinions  that  prevailed  in  his  time  concerning  the  flatt 
of  feparate  fouls.  From  Connal's  expieffion,  "  That  the  ftars  dim-twinkled  through 
the  form  of  Crugal,"  and  CuthuUin's  reply,  we  maf  gather  that  they  both  thouglr. 
»he  foul  was  materia! ;  fomeihing  like  the  jiSWAsji  of  the  ancient  Greeks.  ' 


i5o  F    I    N    G    A    L: 

fpread  over  his  ifle."  They  rofe  ruftling  like  a  flock  of 
fea-fowi,  when  the  waves  expel  them  from  the  fhore. 
Their  found  was  like  a  thoufand  ftreams  that  meet  in  Co- 
na's  vale,  when,  after  a  ilormy  night,  they  turn  their  dark 
eddies,  beneath  the  pale  light  of  the  morn. 

As  the  dark  fhades  of  autumn  fly  over  the  hills  of  grafs; 
fo,  gloomy,  dark,  fucceflive  came  the  chiefs  of  Lochlin's 
echoing  woods.  Tall,  as  the  fl:ag  of  Morven,  moved  fl:ate- 
iy  before  them,  the  king.  His  fliining  fiiield  is  on  his 
fide,  like  a  flame  on  the  heath  at  night;  when  the  world 
is  filent  and  dark,  and  the  traveller  fees  fome  ghofl:  fport- 
ing  in  the  beam!  Dimly  gleam  the  hills  around,  and  fhew 
indifliinclly  their  oaks !  A  blaft  from  the  troubled  ocean 
removed  the  fettled  mifl:.  The  fons  of  Erin  appear,  like 
a  ridge  of  rocks  on  the  coaft ;  when  mariners,  on  Ihores 
unknown,  are  trembling  at  veering  winds  ! 

"  Go,  Morla,  go,"  faid  the  king  of  Lochlin,  "  offer 
peace  to  thefe!  Offer  the  terms  we  give  to  kings,  when  na- 
tions bow  down  to  our  fwords ;  when  the  valiant  are  dead  in 
war;  when  virgins  weep  on  the  field !"  Tall  Morla  came, 
the  fon  of  Swarth,  and  (lately  fl:rode  the  youth  along ! 
He  fpoke  to  Erin's  blue-eyed  chief,  among  the  lefler  he^ 
roes.  "  Take  Swaran's  peace,"  the  warrior  fpoke,  "  the 
peace  he  gives  to  kings,  when  nations  bow  to  his  fword. 
Leave  Erin's  llreamy  plains  to  us,  and  give  thy  fpoufe  and 
dog.  Thy  fpoufe  high-bofom'd,  heaving  fair  ! — thy  dog 
that  overtakes  the  wind  !  Give  thefe  to  prove  the  weak- 
nefs  of  thine  arm  :  live  then  beneath  our  power  !" 

"  TiiLL  Swaran,  tell  that  heart  of  pride,  Cuthullin  never 
yields.  I  give  him  the  dark  rolHng  fea;  I  give  his  people 
graves  in  Erin.  But  never  fliall  a  ftranger  have  the  pleaf- 
ing  fun-beam  of  my  love.  No  deer  fliall  fly  on  Lochlin's 
hills  before  fwift-footed  Luath."  "  Vain  ruler  of  the  car," 
faid  Morla,  "  wilt  thou  then  fight  the  king  ?  The  king, 
whofe  fliips  of  many  groves  could  carry  off:'  thine  ifle  ?  So 
little  is  thy  green-hilled  Erin  to  him  who  rules  the  fliormy 
waves  !"  "  In  words  I  yield  to  many,  Morla.  My  fword 
ihail  yield  to  none.     Erin  fliall  own  the  fway  of  Cormac, 

while  Connal  and  Cuthullin  live  ! O  Connal,  firfl:  of 

mighty  men,  thou  hear'fi:  the  words  of  Morla.     Shall  thy 

thoughts 


Book  11.        An  EPIC    POEM.  i6l 

thoughts  then  be  of  peace,  thou  breaker  of  the  ll:iields  ? 
Spirit  of  fallen  Crugal !  why  didil  thou  threaten  us  with 
death  ?  The  narrow  houfe  will  receive  me,  in  the  midfc 
of  the  light  of  renown.  Exalt,  ye  fons  of  Erin,  exalt  the 
fpear,  and  bend  the  bow:  rufli  on  the  foe  in  darknefs,  as 
the  fpirits  of  llormy  nights  I" 

Then  difmal,  roaring,  fierce,  and  deep  the  gloom  of 
battle  poured  along ;  as  miPc  that  is  rolled  on  a  valley^ 
when  ftorms  invade  the  filent  fun-fliine  of  heaven !  Cu- 
thullin  moves  before  in  arms,  like  an  angry  ghoil  before 
a  cloud  ;  when  meteors  inclofe  them  with  lire;  when  the 
dark  winds  are  in  his  hand.  Carril,  far  on  the  heath, 
bids  the  horn  of  battle  found.  He  raifes  the  voice  of  long, 
and  pours  his  foul  into  the  minds  of  the  brave. 

""  Where,"  faid  the  mouth  of  the  fong,  "  where  is 
the  fallen  Crugal  ?  Ele  lies  forgot  on  earth  ;  the  hall  of 
Ihells*  is  filent.  Sad  is  the  fpoufe  of  Crugal !  She  is  a 
ftranger  f  in  the  hall  of  her  grief.  But  who  is  (he,  that^ 
like  a  fun-beam,  flies  before  the  ranks  of  the  foe  ?  It  is 
Degrena  |j,  lovely  fair,  the  fpoufe  of  fallen  Crugal.  Her 
hair  is  on  the  wind  behind.  Her  eye  is  red;  her  voice  is 
fliriil.  Pale,  empty  is  thy  Crugal  now !  His  form  is  in 
the  cave  of  the  hill.  He  comes  to  the  ear  of  reft  :  he 
raifes  his  feeble  voice;  like  the  hummiing  of  the  mountain- 
bee;  like  the  collefted  flies  of  the  eve!  But  Degrena  falls 
like  a  cloud  of  the  morn;  the  fword  of  Lochlin  is  in  her 
fide.  Cairbar,  fhe  is  fallen,  the  rifmg  thought  of  thy 
youth.  She  is  fallen,  O  Cairbar,  the  thought  of  thy 
youthful  hours !" 

Fierce  Cairbar  heard  the  mournful  found.  He  ruflied 
along  like  ocean's  whale.  He  faw  the  death  of  his  daugh- 
ter :  he  roared  in  the  midft  of  thoufands.  His  fpear  met 
a  foil  of  Lochlin  ;  battle  fpreads  from  wing  to  wing !  As 
a  hundred  v/inds  in  Locblin's  groves:  as  fire  in  the  pines 
of  a  hundred  hills  ;  fo  loud,  io  ruinous,  fo  vaft  the  ranks 

X  of 

*  The  ancient  Scots,  as  well  as  the  prefent  Highlanders,  drunk  in  fliells;  hence 
;t  is  that  we  fo  often  meet,  in  the  old  poetry,  with  t/i£  chief  cfjkdis,  and  the  hall 
of  Jhelh. 

t  Ciugal  had  married  Degrena  but  a  little  time  before  the  battle,  confequentljf 
flie  may  with  propriety  be  called  a  Rraiigsr  in  the  hall  of  her  gritf, 

!!  Deo-gieiia  fignihes  a  fun-kam. 


i52  F    I    N     G    A    L  :- 

of  men  are  hewn  down.  CuthulHn  cut  off  heroes  like 
thiflies ;  Swaran  walled  Erin.  Ciirach  fell  by  his  hand, 
Cairbar  of  the  bolTy  fnield  !  Morglan  lies  in  {ailing  reft ! 
Ca-olt  trembles  as'  he  dies !  His  white  breaft  is  ft ained 
with  blood  ;  his  yellow  hair  ftretched  in  the  duft  of  his 
native  land !  He  often  had  fpread  the  feaft  where  he  fell : 
he  often  there  had  raifed  the  voice  of  the  harp  ;  when  his 
dogs  leapt  around  for  joy,  and  the  youths  of  the  chace 
prepared  the  bow  ! 

Still  Swaran  advanced,  as  a  ftream,  that  burfts  from 
the  defart.  The  little  hilis  are  rolled  in  its  court'e  ;  the 
rocks  are  ha]f-funk  by  its  fide !  But  Cuthullin  ftood  be- 
fore him,  like  a  hill  that  catches  the  clouds  of  heaven. 
The  vv^inds  contend  on  its  head  of  pines :  the  hail  rattles 
on  its  rocks  ;  but,  firm  in  its  ftrength,  it  ftands,  and 
fhades  the  filent  vale  of  Cona!  So  CuthulUn  ftiaded  the 
fons  of  Erin,  and  ftood  in  the  midft  of  thoufands.  Blood 
rifes  like  the  fount  of  a  rock,  from  panting  heroes  around. 
But  Erin  falls  on  either  wing,  like  fnow  in  the  day  of  the 
fun. 

"  O  SONS  of  Erin,"  faid  Grumal,  "  Lochlin  conquers 
on  the  fiek-l.  Why  ftrive  we  as  reeds  againft  the  wind? 
Fly  to  the  hill  of  dark-brown  hinds."  He  fled  like  the 
ftafT  of  Morven  ;  his  fpear  is  a  trembling  beam  of  light 
behind  him.  Few  fled  with  Grumal,  chief  of  the  little 
foul :  they  fell  in  the  battle  of  heroes,  on  Lena's  echoing 
heath.  High  on  his  car,  of  many  gems,  the  chief  of  Erin 
ftood. '  ?Ie  flew  a  mi;};hty  fon  of  Lochlin,  and  fpoke,  in 
hafte,  to  Connal.  "  O  Connal,  iirft  of  mortal  men,  thou 
haft  taught  this  arm  of  death  !  Though  Erin's  fons  have 
fled,  ftiall  we  not  fight  the  foe?  Carril,  fon  of  other  times, 
carry  mv  friends  to  that  bufhy  hill.  Here,  Connal,  let  us 
ftand,  like  rocks,  and  fave  our  flying  friends." 

Connal  mounts  the  car  of  gems.  They  ftretch  their 
fhields,  hke  the  darkened  moon,  the  daughter  of  the  ftar- 
ry  fk-ies  ;  when  fhe  moves,  a  dun  circle,  thro'  heaven,  and 
dreadful  change  is  expected  by  men.  Si-fadda  panted  up 
the  hill,  and  Dufronnal,  haughty  fteed.  Like  waves  be- 
hind a  whale,  behind  them  ruilied  the  foe.  Nov/  on  the 
rifing  fide  of  Cromla  ftood  Erin's  few  fad  fons ;  like  a 

grove 


Book  II.        An   epic   POEM.  '      163 

grove  through  which  the  flame  had  ruflied,  hurried  on  by 
the  winds  of  the  ilormy  night ;  diflant,  withered,  dark 
they  (land,  with  not  a  leaf  to  fijake  in  the  gale. 

CuTHULLiN  flood  bcfidc  an  oak.  He  rolled  his  red 
eye  in  filence,  and  heard  the  wind  in  his  bufliy  hair;  the 
fcout  of  ocean  came,  Moran  the  fon  of  Fithil.  *^  The 
fhips,"  he  cried,  "  the  fliips  of  the  lonely  ifies  !  Fingal 
comes,  the  hrll  of  men,  the  breaker  of  the  fhields  !  The 
waves  foam  before  his  black  prowls !  His  mails  with  fails 
are  like  groves  in  clouds !"  "  Blow,"  faid  Cuthullin, 
"  blow,  ye  winds,  that  rufh  along  my  ifle  of  mid.  Come 
to  the  death  of  thoufands,  O  king  of  refounding  Selma ! 
Thy  fails,  my  friend,  are  to  me  the  clouds  of  the  morning; 
thy  fhips,  the  light  of  heaven  ;  and  thou  thyfelf  a  pillar 
of  fire  that  beams  on  the  world  by  night.  O  Connal,  firft 
of  men,  how  pleafing,  in  grief,  are  our  friends  !  But  the 
night  is  gathering  around !  Where  now  are  the  fliips  of 
Fingal?  Here  let  us  pafs  the  hours  of  darknefs;  here  v/ifh 
for  the  moon  of  heaven." 

The  winds  come  down  on  the  woods.  The  torrents  ru-Ii 
from  the  rocks.  Rain  gathers  round  the  head  of  Cronila. 
The  red  liars  trem.ble  between  the  flying  clouds.  Sad,  by 
the  fide  of  a  flream  whole  found  is  echoed  by  a  tree,  fad 
by  the  fide  of  a  ftream  the  chief  of  Erin  fits.  Connal  fon 
of  Colgar  is  there,  and  Carril  of  other  times.  "  Unhappy 
is  the  hand  of  Cuthullin,"  faid  the  fon  of  Semo,  *^  un- 
happy is  the  hand  of  Cuthullin,  fince  he  flew  his  friend ! 
Ferda,  fon  of  Damman,  I  loved  thee  as  myfelf !" 

"  How .,  Cuthullin,  fon  of  Semo  !  how  fell  the  breaker 
of  Ihields  ?  Well  I  remember,". faid  Connal,  "  the  fon  of 
the  noble  Damman.  Tall  and  fair,  he  was  like  the  rain- 
bow of  heaven."  "  Ferda  from  Albion  came,  the  chief 
of  a  hundred  hills.  In  Muri's  *  hail  he  learned  the  fv/ord, 
and  won  the  friendfliip  of  Cuthullin.  We  moved  to  the 
chace  together  :  one  was  our  bed  in  the  heath  ! 

''  Deugala  was  the  fpoufe  of  Cairbar,  chief  of  the 
plains  of  Ullin.  She  was  covered  with  the  light  of  beau- 
ty, but  her  heart  was  the  houfe  of  pride.  She  loved  that 
iun-beam  of  youth,  the  fon  of  noble  Damman.  '^  Cair- 
bar," 

-■'  A  place  in  Ulfter. 


i64  F    I     N     G     A     L  : 

bar,"  faid  the  white-armed  Deugala,  "  give  me  half  of 
the  herd.  No  more  I  will  remain  in  your  halls.  Divide 
the  herd,  dark  Cairbar!"  "  Let  Cuthiiliin,"  faid  Cairbar, 
"  divide  my  herd  on  the  hill.  His  bread  is  the  feat  of 
JLiftice.  Depart,  thou  light  of  beauty!"  I  went  and  divid- 
ed the  herd.  One  fnow-white  bullremained.  I  gave  that 
bull  to  Cairbar.     The  wrath  of  Deugala  rofe ! 

"  Son  of  Damman,"  begun  the  fair,  "  Cuthullin  hath 
pained  my  foul.  I  muft  hear  of  his  death,  or  Lubar's 
ftream  fnall  roll  over  me.  My  pale  gholt  fliall  wander 
near  thee,  and  mourn  the  wound  of  my  pride.  Pour  out 
the  blood  of  Cuthullin,  or  pierce  this  heaving  brealt.'* 
"  Deugala,"  faid  the  fair-haired  youth,  "  how  lliall  I  flay 
the  fon  of  Semo  ?  He  is  the  friend  of  my  fecret  thoughts. 
Shall  I  then  lift  the  fword  ?"  She  wept  three  days  before 
the  chief,  on  the  fourth  he  faid  he  would  light.  "^  I  will 
fight  my  friend,  Deugala !  but  may  I  fall  by  his  fword  ! 
Could  I  wander  on  the  hill  alone  ?  Could  I  behold  the 
grave  of  Cuthullin  ?"  We  fought  on  the  plain  of  Muri. 
Our  fwords  avoid  a  wound.  They  flide  on  the  helmets 
of  fteel ;  or  found  on  the  ilippery  fnields.  Deugala  was 
-near  with  a  fmile,  and  faid  to  the  fon  of  Damman: 
'*  Thine  arm  is  feeble,  fun-beam  of  youth!  Thy  years  are 
not  (Irong  for  fteel.  Yield  to  the  fon  of  Semo.  He  is  a 
rock  on  IVIalmor." 

"  The  tear  is  in  the  eye  of  youth.  He,  faultering,  faid 
to  me  :  "  Cuthullin,  raife  thy  boffy  Ihield.  Defend  thee 
from  the  hand  of  thy  friend.  My  foul  is  laden  with  grief ; 
for  I  muft  (lay  the  chief  of  men  !"  I  fighed  as  the  wind 
in  the  cleft  of  a  rock.  I  lifted  high  the  edge  of  my  fteel. 
The  fun-beam  of  battle  fell :  the  firft  of  Cuthullin's  friends ! 
Unhappy  is  the  hand  of  Cuthullin  fmce  the  hero  fell !" 

"  Mournful  is  thy  tale,  fon  of  the  car,"  faid  Carrii 
of  other  times.  "  It  fends  my  foul  back  to  the  ages  oi 
old,  to  the  days  of  other  years.  Often  have  I  heard  of 
Comal,  who  flew  the  friend  he  loved  ;  yet  victory  attend- 
ed his  fteel :  the  battle  was  confumed  in  his  prefence  ! 

"  Comal  was  a  fon  of  Albion ;  the  chief  of  an  hun- 
dred hills !  His  deer  drunk  of  a  thoufand  ftreams.  A 
th.oufand  rocks  replied  to  the  voice  of  his  dogs.    His  face 

^^'as 


Book  11.        An   EPIC   POEM.  165 

was  the  liiildnefs  of  youth  ;  his  hand,  the  death  of  heroes. 
One  was  his  love,  and  fair  was  fhe !  the  daughter  of 
mighty  Conloch.  She  appeared  Hke  a  fun-beam  among 
women.  Her  hair  was  the  wing  of  the  raven.  Her  dogs 
were  taught  to  the  chace.  Her  bow-ftring  founded  on  the 
winds.  Her  foul  was  fixed  on  Comal.  Often  met  their 
eyes  of  love.  Their  courfe  in  the  chace  was  one.  Happy 
were  their  words  in  fecret. — But  Grumal  loved  the  maid, 
the  dark  chief  of  the  gloomy  Ardven,  He  watched  her 
lone  fteps  in  the  heath  ;  the  foe  of  unhappy  Comal ! 

"  One  day,  tired  of  the  chace,  when  the  mid;  had  con- 
cealed their  friends,  Comal  and  the  daughter  of  Conloch 
met,  in  the  cave  of  Ronan.  It  was  the  wonted  haunt  of 
Comal.  Its  fides  were  hung  with  his  arms.  A  hundred 
lliields  of  thongs  were  there;  a  hundred  helms  of  found- 
ing fteel.  "  Reft  here,"  he  faid,  "  my  love  Galbina  ; 
thou  light  of  the  cave  of  Ronan  !■  A  deer  appears  on  Mo- 
ra's brow.  I  go  ;  but  I  will  foon  return."  "  I  fear,"  fhe 
faid,  "  dark  Grumal  my  foe:  he  haunts  the  cave  of  Ronan! 
I  will  reft  among  the  arms  :  But  foon  return,  my  love  !" 

"  He  went  to  the  deer  of  Mora.  The  daughter  of  Con- 
loch would  try  his  love.  She  clothed  her  fair  fides  with 
his  armour ;  fhe  ftrode  from  the  cave  of  Ronan  !  He 
thought  it  was  his  foe.  His  heart  beat  high.  His  colour 
changed,  and  darknefs  dimmed  his  eyes.  He  drew  the 
bow.  The  arrow  flew.  Galbina  fell  in  blood  !  He  run 
with  wildnefs  in  his  iieps  :  he  called  the  daughter  of  Con- 
loch. No  anfwer  in  the  lonely  rock.  "  Where  art  thou, 
O  my  love  ?"  He  faw,  at  length,  her  heaving  heart,  beat- 
ing around  the  arrow  he  threw.  "  O  Conloch's  daughter, 
is  it  thou  ?"  He  funk  upon  her  breaft  !  The  hunters  found 
the  haplefs  pair  :  he  afterwards  walked  the  hill.  But  ma- 
ny and  filent  were  his  fteps  round  the  dark  dwelling  of 
his  love. — The  fleet  of  the  ocean  came.  He'  fought :  the 
ftrangers  fled.  He  fearched  for  death  along  the  field  :  but 
who  could  flay  the  mighty  Comal !  He  thjew  away  his 
dark-brown  fhield.  An  arrow  found '"his  manly  breaft. 
He  fleeps  with  his  loved  Galbina,  at  the  noife  of  the  found- 
ing furge  !  Their  green  tombs  are  feen  by  the  mariner, 
when  he  bounds  on  the  waves  of  the  north." 

F I N  G  A  L  : 


F       I       N       G       A       L 

AN     ANCIENT 

EPIC        POEM. 
BOOK    III.* 


ARGUMENT. 


CUTHULLIN,  pleafed  with  the  ftory  of  Carril,  infifls  with  that  bard  for  more 
of  his  fongs.  He  relates  the  aftions  of  Fingal  in  Lochlin,  and  death  of  Agan- 
decca  the  beautiful  lifter  of  Swaran.  He  had  fcarce  finlfhed,  when  Calmar,  the 
fon  of  Matha,  who  had  advifed  the  lirft  battle,  came  wounded  from  the  field, 
and  told  them  of  Swaran's  defign  to  furprife  the  remains  of  the  Irifli  army.  He 
himfelf  propofes  to  withftand  fingly  the  whole  force  of  the  enemy,  in  a  narrow 
pafs,  till  the  Irilh  fiiould  make  good  their  retreat.  Cuthullin,  touched  with  the 
gallant  propofal  of  Calmar,  refolves  to  accompany  him,  and  orders  Carril  to 
carry  off  the  few  that  remained  of  the  Irifb.  Morning  comes,  Calmar  dies  of 
his  wounds;  and,  the  fhips  of  the  Caledonians  appearing,  Swaran  gives  over  the 
puvfuit  of  the  Irilh,  aid  returns  to  oppofe  Fingal's  landing.  Cuthullin  afhamed, 
after  his  d::fpat,  to  appear  before  Fingal,  retires  to  the  cave  of  Tura.  Fingal  en- 
gages the  enemy,  puts  them  to  flight ;  but  the  coming  on  of  night  makes  the  vic- 
tory not  decifivc.  The  king,  who  had  obferved  the  gallant  behaviour  of  his 
grandfon  Ofcar,  gives  him  advices  concerning  his  conduft  in  peace  and  war.  He 
recommends  to  him  to  place  the  example  of  his  fathers  before  his  eyes,  as  the 
beft  model  for  his  conduft;  which  introduces  the  epifode  concerning  Faina-fol- 
lis,  the  daughter  of  the  king  of  Craca,  whom  Fingal  had  taken  under  his  pro- 
^teftion,  in  his  youth.  Fillan  and  Ofcar  are  difpatched  to  obferve  the  motions 
of  the  enemy  by  night.  Gaul  the  fon  of  Morni  defires  the  command  of  the  ar- 
my, in  the  next  battle ;  which  Fingal  promifes  to  give  him.  Some  general  re- 
fleflions  of  the  poet  clofe  the  third  day. 

«  T)LEASANT  aj-e  the  words  of  the  fong,"  faid  Cu- 

jL     thullin  !    "  lovely  the  tales  of  other  times  !  They 

are  like  the  calm  dew  of  the  morning  on  the  hill  of  roes  ; 

when  the  fun  is  faint  on  its  fide,  and  the  lake  is  fettled 

and 

*  The  fecond  night,  fmce  the  opening  of  the  poem,  continues;  and  Cuthullin, 
Connal,  and  Carril  ftill  fit  in  the  place  defcribed  in  the  preceding  book.  The  (lory 
of  Agandecca  is  introduced  here  with  propriety,  as  great  ufe  is  made  of  it  in  the 
courfe  of  the  poem,  and  as  it,  in  fome  meafure,  brings  about  the  cataftrophe. 


t68  F    I    N    G     a    L  : 

and  blue  In  the  vale.  O  Carril,  raife  again  thy  voice:  let 
me  hear  the  fong  of  Selma  ;  which  was  fung  in  my  halls 
of  joy,  when  Fingal  king  of  fliells  was  there,  and  glowed 
at  the  deeds  of  his  fathers." 

"  Fingal  !  thou  dweller  of  battle,"  faid  Carril,  "  early 
were  thy  deeds  in  arms.  Lochlin  was  confumed  in  thy 
wrath,  when  thy  youth  drove  with  the  beauty  of  maids. 
They  fmiled  at  the  fair-blooming  face  of  the  hero  ;  but 
death  was  in  his  hands.  He  was  ftrong  as  the  waters  of 
Lora.  His  followers  were  the  roar  of  a  thoufand  ftreams. 
They  took  the  king  of  Lochlin  in  war  :  they  reftored  him 
to  his  fhips.  His  big  heart  fwelled  with  pride  :  the  death 
of  the  youth  was  dark  in  his  foul ;  for  none  ever,  but  Fin- 
gal, had  overcome  the  flrength  of  the  mighty  Starno*. 
He  fat  in  the  hall  of  his  fhells  in  Lochlin's  woody  land. 
He  called  the  grey-haired  Snivan,  that  often  fung  round 
the  circle  f  of  Loda  ;  when  the  Hone  of  power  heard  his 
voice,  and  battle  turned  in  the  field  of  the  valiant ! 

"  Go,  grey-haired  Snivan,"  Starno  faid  ;  "  go  to  Ard- 
ven's  fea-furrounded  rocks.  Tell  to  the  king  of  Selma  ; 
he  the  faireft  among  his  thoufands,  tell  him  I  give  him  my 
daughter,  the  lovelieft  maid  that  ever  heaved  a  breafl  of 
fnow.  Her  arms  are  white  as  the  foam  of  my  waves :  her 
foul  is  generous  and  mild.  Let  him  come  with  his  bravell 
heroes,  to  the  daughter  of  the  fecret  hall !"  Snivan  came 
to  Selma's  hall :  fair-hziired  Fingal  attended  his  fteps. 
His  kindled  foul  flew  to  the  maid,  as  he  bounded  on  the 
waves  of  the  north.  "  Welcome,"  faid  the  dark-brown 
Starno,  "  welcome,  king  of  rocky  Morven  :  welcome, 
liis  heroes  of  might  ;  fons  of  the  diftant  ifle  !  Three  days 
within  my  halls  fliall  ye  feafl ;  three  days  purfue  my  boars  ; 
that  your  fame  may  reach  the  maid  who  dwells  in  the  fe- 
cret hall." 

"  Starno  defigned  their  death.  He  gave  the  feafl  of 
fliells.  Fingal,  v/ho  doubted  the  foe,  kept  on  his  arms  of 
fteeL  The  fons  of  death  were  afraid  :  they  fled  from  the 
eyes   of  the  king.     The  voice  of  fprightly  mirth  arofe. 

The 

*  Starno  was  the  father  of  Swaran  as  well  as  Ag-nndccca.  His  fierce  anct  cruel 
charaftar  is  well  marked  in  other  poems  concerning  the  times. 

+  This  palTajre  moft  certainly  alludes  to  the  religion  of  Lochlin,  and  the  Jlcne  of 
p^rxier  here  mentioned  is  the  image  of  one  of  the  deities  of  Scandinavia. 


Book  III.        An  EPIC   POEM.  169 

The  trembling  harps  of  joy  were  ftrung.  Bards  fung  the 
battle  of  heroes  :  they  fung  the  heaving  breaft  of  love. 
Ullin,  Fingal's  bard,  was  there ;  the  fweet  voice  of  re- 
founding  Cona.  He  praifed  the  daughter  of  Lochlin  ; 
and  Morven's  *  high-defcended  chief.  The  daughter  of 
Lochlin  overheard.  She  left  the  hall  of  her  fecret  fig!* ! 
She  came,  in  all  her  beauty,  like  the  moon  from  the  cloud 
of  the  eaft.  Lovelinefs  w^as  around  her  as  light.  Her  fteps 
were  the  mufic  of  fongs.  She  faw  the  youth,  and  loved 
him.  He  was  the  ftolen  figh  of  her  foul.  Her  blue  eve 
rolled  on  him  in  fecret  :  fhe  bled  the  chief  of  refoundinp- 
Morven. 

"  The  third  day,  with  all  its  beamxS,  flione  bright  on. 
the  wood  of  boars.  Forth  moved  the  dark-browed  Starno ; 
and  Fingal,  king  of  fhields.  Half  the  day  they  fpent  in 
the  chace  :  the  fpear  of  Selma  was  red  in  blood.  It  was 
then  the  daughter  of  Starno,  with  blue  eyes  rolling  in 
tears  ;  it  was  then  fhe  came  with  her  voice  of  love,  and 
fpoke  to  the  king  of  Morven.  "  Fingal,  high-defcended 
chief,  truft  not  Starno's  heart  of  pride.  Within  that 
wood  he  has  placed  his  chiefs.  Beware  of  the  wood  of 
death.  But,  remember,  fon  of  the  ifle,  remember  Agan- 
decca  :  fave  me  from  the  wrath  of  my  father,  king  of  the 
windy  Morven !" 

"  The  youth,  with  unconcern,  went  on  ;  his  heroes  by 
his  fide.  The  fons  of  death  fell  by  his  hand  ;  and  Gor- 
mal  echoed  around  !  Before  the  halls  of  Starno -the  fons 
of  the  chace  convened.  The  king's  dark  brows  were  like 
clouds  ;  his  eyes,  like  meteors  of  night.  "  Bring  hither," 
he  faid,  "  Agandecca  to  her  lovely  king  of  Morven  !  His 
hand  is  ftalned  with  the  blood  of  my  people  ;  her  words 
have  not  been  in  vain  V*  She  came  with  the  red  eye 
of  tears.  She  came  with  loofely  flowing  locks.  Her 
white  breaft  heaved  with  broken  fighs,  like  the  foam  of 
the  flreamy  Lubar.  Starno  pierced  her  fide  with  IfeeL 
She  fell,  like  a  wreath  of  fnow,  which  Aides  from  the 
rocks  of  Ronan ;  when  the  v/oods  are  Itill,  and  echo 
deepens  in  the  vale  !  Then  Fingal  eyed  his  valiant  chiefs : 

Y  his 

*  All  the  north-weft  coaft  of  Scotland  probably  went  of  old  under  the  name  of 
Morven,  which  fignifies  a  ridge  of  very  high  hills. 


i-jo  F    I    N    G     A    L: 

his  valiant  chiefs  took  arms.  The  gloom  of  battle  roared  ; 
Lochlin  fled  or  died.  Pale,  in  his  bounding  fhip,  he  clofed 
the  maid  of  the  foftefi;  foul.  Her  tomb  afcends  on  Ard- 
ven  :  the  fea  roars  round  her  narrow  dwelling.'* 

"  Blessed  be  her  foul,"  faid  Cuthullin ;  "  blefled  b© 
the  mouth  of  the  fong  !  Strong  was  the  youth  of  Fingal ; 
ftrong  is  his  arm  of  age.  Lochlin  fhall  fall  again  before 
the  king  of  echoing  Morven.  Shew  thy  face  from  a  cloud, 
O  moon  ;  light  his  white  fails  on  the  wave  :  And  if  any 
ftrong  fpirit*  of  heaven  fits  on  that  low-hung  cloud  ;  turn 
his  dark  fliips  from  the  rock,  thou  rider  of  the  ftorm  !'* 

Such  were  the  v/ords  of  Cuthullin  at  the  found  of  the 
mountain-ftream ;  when  Calmar  afcended  the  hill,  the 
wounded  fon  of  Matha.  From  the  field  he  came  in  his 
blood.  He  leaned  on  his  bending  fpear.  Feeble  is  the 
arm  of  battle  !  but  ftrong  the  foul  of  the  hero  !  "  Wel- 
come! O  fon  of  Matha,"  faid  Connal,  "  welcome  art  thou 
to  thy  friends !  Why  burfts  that  broken  figh,  from  the 
breaft  of  him  who  never  feared  before  ?"  "  And  never, 
Connal,  will  he  fear,  chief  of  the  pointed  fleel !  My  foul 
brightens  in  danger  ;  in  the  noife  of  arms.  I  am  of  the 
race  of  battle.     My  fathers  never  feared. 

"  CoRMAR  was  the  firfl  of  my  race.  He  fported  thro* 
the  florm  of  waves.  His  black  fkiff  bounded  on  ocean  ; 
he  travelled  on  the  wings  of  the  v/ind.  A  fpirit  once  em- 
broiled the  night.  Seas  fwell  and  rocks  refound.  Winds 
drive  along  the  clouds.  The  lightning  flies  on  wings  of 
hre.  He  feared,  and  came  to  land  ;  then  blufhed  that  he 
feared  at  all.  He  rufhed  again  among  the  waves  to  find 
the  ion  of  the  wind.  Three  youths  guide  the  bounding 
bark ;  he  flood  with  fword  unflieathed.  When  the  low- 
hung  vapour  pafled,  he  took  it  by  the  curling  head.  He 
fearched  its  dark  womb  with  his  fteel.  The  fon  of  the 
wind  forfook  the  air.  The  moon  and  ftars  returned  ! — 
Such  was  the  boldnefs  of  my  race.  Calmar  is  like  his  fa- 
thers. 

*  This  is  the  only  pafTage  in  the  poem  that  has  the  appearance  of  religion.  But 
Cuthullin's  apoRrophe  to  this  fpirit  is  accompanied  with  a  doubt,  fo  that  it  is  not 
eafy  to  determine  whetiier  the  hero  meant  a  fuperior  being,  or  the  ghofls  of  dc- 
ceafed  warriors,  who  were  fuppofed  in  thofe  times  to  rule  the  ftorms^  and  totraaf- 
port  themfelves  in  a  gaft  of  wiud  from  one  country  to  another. 


Book  III.        An   EPIC   POEM.  171 

thers.    Danger  flies  from  the  lifted  fword.    They  bed  fuc- 
ceed  who  dare ! 

"  But  now,  ye  fons  of  green  Erin,  retire  from  Lena's 
bloody  heath.  Collect  the  fad  remnant  of  our  friends, 
and  join  the  fword  of  Fingal.  I  heard  the  found  of  Loch- 
lin's  advancing  arms !  Calmar  will  remain  and  light.  My 
voice  fhali  be  fuch,  my  friends,  as  if  thoufands  were  be- 
hind me.  But,  fon  of  Semo,  remember  me.  Remember 
Calmar's  lifelefs  corfe.  When  Fingal  fhall  have  waft- 
ed the  field,  place  me  by  fome  ilone  of  remembrance, 
that  future  times  may  hear  my  fame ;  that  the  mother  of 
Calmar  may  rejoice  in  my  renown." 

"  No  :  fon  of  Matha,"  faid  Cuthullln,  "  I  will  never 
leave  thee  here.  My  joy  is  in  unequal  fight;  my  foul  in- 
creafes  in  danger.  Connal,  and  Carril  of  other  times, 
carry  off  the  fad  fons  of  Erin.  When  the  battle  is  over, 
fearch  for  us  in  the  narrow  way.  For  near  this  oak  we  lliall 
fall,  in  the  ftream  of  the  battle  of  thoufands  !  O  Fithil's 
fon,  with  flying  fpeed  rufh  over  the  heath  of  Lena.  Tell 
to  Fingal  that  Erin  is  fallen.  Bid  the  king  of  Morven 
come.  O  let  him  come,  like-the  fun  in  a  fliorm,  to  light- 
en, to  refliore  the  ifle  !'* 

Morning  is  grey  on  Cromla.  The  fons  of  the  fea 
afcend.  Calmar  flood  forth  to  meet  them  in  the  pride  of 
his  kindling  foul.  But  pale  was  the  face  of  the  chief.  He 
leaned  on  his  father's  fpear  ;  that  fpear  which  he  brought 
from  Lara,  when  the  foul  of  his  mother  was  fad;  the  foul 
of  the  lonely  Alcletha,  waining  in  the  forrow  of  years. 
But  flowly  now  the  hero  falls,  like  a  tree  on  the  plain. 
Dark  CuthuUin  ftands  alone,  like  a  rock  in  a  fandy  vale; 
the  fea  comes  with  its  waves,  and  roars  on  its  hardened 
fides.  Its  head  is  covered  with  foam ;  the  hills  are  echo- 
ing around. 

Now,  from  the  grey  mifl  of  the  ocean,  the  white-failed 
fhips  of  Fingal  appear.  High  is  the  grove  of  their  mafts, 
as  they  nod,  by  turns,  on  the  rolling  wave.  Swaran  fav/ 
them  from  the  hill.  He  returned  from  the  fons  of  Erin. 
As  ebbs  the  refounding  fea,  through  the  hundred  ifles  of 
Iniflore  ;  fo  loud,  fo  vaft,  fo  immenfe  returned  the  fons  of 
Lochlin  againft  the  king.     But  bending,  weeping,  fad, 

and 


172  F    I     N     G     A     L  : 

and  flow,  and  dragging  his  long  fpear  behind,  Cuthullin 
funk  in  Cromla's  wood,  and  mourned  his  fallen  friends. 
He  feared  the  face  of  Fingal,  v/ho  was  wont  to  greet  him 
from  the  fields  of  renown  ! 

"  How  many  lie  there  of  my  heroes  !  the  chiefs  of 
Erin's  race  !  they  that  were  chearful  in  the  hall,  when 
the  found  of  the  fhells  arofe  !  No  more  fhall  I  find  their 
fleps  in  the  heath.  No  more  fhall  1  hear  their  voice 
in  the  chace.  Pale,  filent,  low  on  bloody  beds,  are  they 
who  were  my  friends  !  O  fpirits  of  the  lately  dead,  meet 
CuthulHn  on  his  heath.  Speak  to  him  on  the  wind,  when 
the  ruftling  tree  of  Tura's  cave  refounds.  There,  far  re- 
mote, I  lliall  lie  unknown.  No  bard  fnall  hear  of  me.  No 
grey  flone  fhall  rife  to  my  renown.  Mourn  me  with  the 
dead,  O  Brageia  !  departed  is  my  fame."  Such  were  the 
words  of  Cuthullin,  when  he  funk  in  the  woods  of 
Cromla  ! 

Fingal,  tall  in  his  fhip,  flretched  his  bright  lance  be- 
fore him.  Terrible  was  the  gleam  of  the  fleel:  it  was  like 
the  green  meteor  of  death,  fetting  in  the  heath  of  Malmor, 
when  the  traveller  is  alone,  and  the  broad  moon  is  dark- 
ened in  heaven. 

"  The  battle  is  pait,"  faid  the  king.  "  I  behold  the 
blood  of  my  friends.  Sad  is  the  heath  of  Lena  !  mourn- 
ful the  oaks  of  Cromla.  The  hunters  have  fallen  in  their 
ilrength  :  the  fon  of  Semo  is  no  more.  Ryno  and  Fillan, 
my  fons,  found  the  horn  of  Fingal.  Afcend  that  hill  on 
the  fhore  ;  call  the  children  of  the  foe.  Call  them  from 
the  grave  of  Lamdarg,  the  chief  of  other  times.  Be  your 
voice  like  that  of  your  father,  when  he  enters  the  battles 
of  his  flrength.  I  wait  for  the  mighty  ftranger.  I  wait 
on  Lena's  Ihore  for  Swaran.  Let  him  come  with  all  his 
race ;  flrong  in  battle  are  the  friends  of  the  dead  !" 

Fair  Ryno,  as  lightning,  gleamed  along  :  dark  Fillan 
rufhed  like  the  fhade  of  autumn.  On  Lena's  heath  their 
voice  is  heard.  The  fons  of  ocean  heard  the  horn  of  Fin- 
gal. As  the  roaring  eddy  of  ocean  returning  from  the 
kingdom  of  fnows  ;  fo  ftrong,  fo  dark,  fo  fudden  came 
down  the  fons  of  Lochlin.  The  king  in  their  front  ap- 
pears, in  the  difmal  pride  of  his  arms !    Wrath  burns  on 

his 


Book  III.        An  EPIC   POEM.  173 

his  dark-brown  face :  his  eyes  roll  in  the  fire  of  his  va- 
lour. Fingal  beheld  the  fon  of  Starno  :  he  remembered 
Agandecca.  For  Swaran  with  the  tears  of  youth  had 
mourned  his  white-bofomed  filter.  He  fent  Ullin  of  fongs 
to  bid  him  to  the  feafl  of  fhells  :  For  pleafant  on  Fingal's 
foul  returned  the  memory  of  the  firft  of  his  loves ! 

Ullin  came  with  aged  fteps,  and  fpoke  to  Starno's  fon. 
"  O  thou  who  dwelled  afar,  furrounded,  like  a  rock, 
with  thy  waves  !  come  to  the  feaft  of  the  king,  and  pafs 
the  day  in  reft.  To-morrow  let  us  fight,  O  Swaran,  and 
break  the  echoing  Ihields."  "  To-day,"  faid  Starno's 
wrathful  fon,  "  we  break  the  echoing  fhields:  to-morrow 
my  feaft  fhall  be  fpread  ;  but  Fingal  fliall  lie  on  earth." 
"  To-morrow  let  his  feaft  be  fpread,"  faid  Fingal  with  a 
fmile.  "  To-day,  O  my  fons,  we  lliall  break  the  echoing 
ihields.  OlTian,  ftand  thou  near  my  arm.  Gaul,  lift  thy 
terrible  fword.  Fergus,  bend  thy  crooked  yew.  Throw, 
Fillan,  thy  lance  through  heaven.  Lift  your  fliields,  like 
the  darkened  moon.  Be  your  fpears  the  meteors  of  death. 
Follow  me  in  the  path  of  my  fame.  Equal  my  deeds  in 
battle." 

As  a  hundred  winds  on  Morven  ;  as  the  ftreams  of  a 
hundred  hills  ;  as  clouds  fly  fucceflive  over  heaven  ;  as 
the  dark  ocean  alfails  the  fhore  of  the  defart :  fo  roaring, 
fo  vaft,  fo  terrible  the  armies  mixed  on  Lena's  echoing 
heath.  The  groan  of  the  people  fpread  over  the  hills:  it 
was  like  the  thunder  of  night,  when  the  cloud  burfts  on 
Cona,  and  a  thoufand  ghofts  fhriek  at  once  on  the  hollow 
wind.  Fingal  ruflied  on  in  his  ftrength,  terrible  as  the 
fpirit  of  Trenmor ;  when,  in  a  whirlwind,  he  comes  to 
Morven,  to  fee  the  children  of  his  pride.  The  oaks  re- 
found  on  their  mountains,  and  the  rocks  fall  down  before 
him.  Dimly  feen,  as  lightens  the  night,  he  ftrides  largely 
from  hill  to  hill.  Bloody  was  the  hand  of  my  father,  when 
he  whirled  the  gleam  of  his  fword.  He  remembers  the 
battles  of  his  youth.    The  field  is  wafted  in  his  courfe  ! 

Ryno  went  on  like  a  pillar  of  fire.  Dark  is  the  brow 
of  Gaul.  Fergus  rufhed  forward  with  feet  of  wind  ;  Fil- 
lan, like  the  mift  of  the  hill.  OfTian,  like  a  rock,  came 
down.    I  exulted  in  the  ftrength  of  the  king.    Many  v/ere 

the 


174  F    I    N     G     A     L  : 

the  deaths  of  my  arm !  difmal  the  gleam  of  my  fword  ! 
My  locks  were  not  then  fo  grey  ;  nor  trembled  my  hands 
with  age.  My  eyes  were  not  clofed  in  darknefs  ;  my  feet 
failed  not  in  the  race  ! 

Who  can  relate  the  deaths  of  the  people  ?  who,  the 
deeds  of  mighty  heroes  ? — when  Fingal,  burning  in  his 
wrath,  confumed  the  fons  of  Lochlin  ?  Groans  fwelled 
on  groans,  from  hill  to  hill,  till  night  had  covered  all. 
Pale,  flaring  like  a  herd  of  deer,  the  fons  of  Lochlin  con- 
vene on  Lena.  We  fat  and  heard  the  fprightly  harp,  at 
Lubar's  gentle  flream.  Fingal  himfelf  was  next  to  the  foe- 
He  liftened  to  the  tales  of  his  bards.  His  godlike  race 
were  in  the  fong  ;  the  chiefs  of  other  times  1  Attentive, 
leaning  on  his  fhield,  the  king  of  Morven  fat.  The  wind 
vvhiftled  through  his  locks ;  his  thoughts  are  of  the  days 
of  other  years.  Near  him,  on  his  bending  fpear,  my 
young,  my  valiant  Ofcar  flood.  He  admired  the  king  of 
Morven  :  his  deeds  were  fwelling  in  his  foul  ! 

"  Son  of  my  fon,*'  begun  the  king  ;  "  O  Ofcar,  pride 
of  youth  1  I  faw  the  fhining  of  thy  fword  :  I  gloried 
in  my  race.  Purfue  the  fame  of  our  fathers  :  be  thou  what 
they  have  been;  when  Trenmor  lived,  the  firfl  of  men! 
and  Trathal,  the  firfl  of  heroes  !  They  fought  the  battle 
in  their  youth :  they  are  the  fong  of  bards.  O  Ofcar  ! 
bend  the  flrong  in  arm ;  but  fpare  the  feeble  hand.  Be 
thou  a  flream  of  many  tides  againfl  the  foes  of  thy  people  ; 
but  like  the  gale,  that  moves  the  grafs,  to  thofe  who  afk 
thine  aid.  So  Trenmor  lived ;  fuch  Trathal  was ;  and 
fuch  has  Fingal  been.  My  arm  was'  the  fupport  of  the  in- 
jured :  the  weak  refled  behind  the  lightning  of  my  fleel. 

"  Oscar  !  I  was  young,  like  thee,  when  lovely  Faina- 
follis  came  :  that  fun-beam  !  that  mild  light  of  love  !  the 
daughter  of  Craca's*  king  !  I  then  returned  from  Cona's 
heath,  and  few  were  in  my  train.  A  white-failed  boat 
appeared  far  off:  we  faw  it  like  a  mifl,  that  rode  on  ocean's 
wind.  It  foon  approached.  We  faw  the  fair.  Her  white 
breafl  heaved  with  fighs.    The  wind  was  in  her  loofe 

dark 

*  Wh^tthe  Craca  here  mentioned  was,  is  not,  at  this  diftance  of  time,  eafy  to 
determine.  The  moft  probable  opinion  is,  that  it  was  one  of  the  Shetland  ifies. 
There  is  a  flory  concerning  a  daughter  of  the  king  of  Craca  in  the  fixth  book. 


Book  III.        An  EPIC   POEM.  175 

dark  hair :  her  rofy  cheek  had  tears.  "  Daughter  of 
beauty/*  calm  I  faid,  "  what  figh  is  in  thy  breaft?  Can 
I,  young  as  I  am,  defend  thee,  daughter  of  the  fea  ?  My 
fword  is  not  unmatched  in  war,  but  dauntlefs  is  my  heart." 

"  To  thee  I  fly,"  with  fighs  fiie  faid,  "  O  prince  of 
mighty  men  !  To  thee  I  fly,  chief  of  the  generous  Ihells, 
fupporter  of  the  feeble  hand  ! — The  king  of  Craca's  echo- 
ing ifle  owned  me  the  fun-beam  of  his  race.  Cromala's 
hills  have  heard  the  fighs  of  love  for  unhappy  Fainafollis  ! 
Sora'^s  chief  beheld  me  fair  ;  he  loved  the  daughter  of 
Craca.  His  fword  is  a  beam  of  light  upon  the  warrior's 
fide.  But  dark  is  his  brow  ;  and  tempefts  are  in  his  foul. 
I  fliun  him,  on  the  roaring  fea  ;  but  Sora's  chief  purfues.'* 

"  Rest  thou,"  I  faid,  "  behind  my  fiiield  ;  refl;  in 
peace,  thou  beam  of  light !  The  gloomy  chief  of  Sora 
will  fly,  if  Fingal's  arm  is  like  his  foul.  In  fome  lone 
cave  I  might  conceal  thee,  daughter  of  the  fea  !  But  Fin- 
gal  never  flies.  Where  the  danger  threatens,  I  rejoice  in 
the  fl:orm  of  fpears."  I  faw  the  tears  upon  her  cheek. 
I  pitied  Craca's  fair.— Now,  like  a  dreadful  wave  afar,  ap- 
peared the  fliip  of  fl:ormy  Borbar.  His  mails  high-bended 
over  the  fea  behind  their  flieets  of  fnow.  White  roll  the 
waters  on  either  fide.  The  flirength  of  ocean  founds. 
"  Com.e  thou,"  I  faid,  "  from  the  roar  of  ocean,  thou 
rider  of  the  dorm  !  Partake  the  feall  within  my  hall.  It 
is  the  houfe  of  flrangers.'* 

"  The  maid  flood,  trembling,  by  my  fide.  He  drew 
the  bow.  She  fell.  "  Unerring  is  thy  hand,"  I  faid, 
*'  but  feeble  was  the  foe  !"  We  fought,  nor  weak  the 
fl:rife  of  death  !  He  funk  beneath  my  fword.  We  laid 
them  in  two  tombs  of  flione  ;  the  haplefs  lovers  of  youth  ! 
— Such  have  I  been  in  my  youth,  O  Ofcar.  Be  thou  like 
the  age  of  Fingal.  Never  fearch  thou  for  battle  ;  nor 
Ihun  it  when  it  comes. 

"  FiLLAN  and  Ofcar  of  the  dark-brown  hair  !  ye,  that 
are  fwift  in  the  race  !  fly  over  the  heath  in  my  prefence. 
View  the  fons  of  Lochiin.  Far  off  I  hear  the  noife  of 
their  fear,  like  diltant  founds  in  woods.  Go  ;  that  they 
may  not  fly  from  my  fword,  along  the  waves  of  the  north  ; 
for  many  chiefs  of  Erin's  raqe  lie  here,  on  the  dark  bed 

of 


176 


F    I    N    G    A    L. 


of  death.  The  children  of  war  are  low  j  the  fons  of  echo- 
ing Cromla." 

The  heroes  flew  like  two  dark  clouds  :  two  dark  clouds 
that  are  the  chariots  of  ghofts  j  when  air's  dark  children 
come  forth  to  frighten  haplefs  men.  It  was  then  that 
Gaul*,  the  fon  of  Morni,  flood  like  a  rock  in  night.  His 
fpear  is  glittering  to  the  liars;  his  voice  like  many  llreams. 

"  Son  of  battle,"  cried  the  chief;  "  O  Fingal,  king  of 
fhells  !  let  the  bards  of  many  fongs  footh  Erin's  friends 
to  reft.  Fingal,  fheath  thou  thy  fword  of  death  ;  and  let 
thy  people  fight.  We  wither  away  without  our  fame  ;  our 
king  is  the  only  breaker  of  fhields !  When  morning  rifes 
on  our  hills,  behold,  at  a  diftance,  our  deeds.  Let  Loch- 
lin  feel  the  fword  of  Morni's  fon  ;  that  bards  may  fmg  of 
me.  Such  was  the  cuftom  heretofore  of  Fingal's  noble 
race.  Such  was  thine  own,  thou  king  of  fwords,  in  bat- 
tles of  the  fpear." 

"  O  SON  of  Morni,"  Fingal  replied,  "  I  glory  in  thy 
fame.  Fight ;  but  my  fpear  fhall  be  near,  to  aid  thee  in 
the  midfl  of  danger.  Raife,  raife  the  voice,  ye  fons  of  fong, 
and  lull  me  into  reft.  Here  will  Fingal  lie,  amidft  the 
wind  of  night.  And  if  thou,  Agandecca,  art  near,  among 
the  children  of  thy  land  :  if  thou  fitteft  on  a  blaft  of  wind, 
among  the  high-flirowded  mafts  of  Lochlin  ;  come  to  my 
dreams  I,  my  fair  one.     Shew  thy  bright  face  to  my  foul."- 

Many  a  voice,  and  many  a  harp,  in  tuneful  founds 
arofe.  Of  Fingal's  noble  deeds  they  fung  ;  of  Fingal's 
noble  race  :  and  fometimes,  on  the  lovely  found,  was  heard 
the  name  of  OfTian.  I  often  fought,  and  often  won,  in 
battles  of  the  fpear.  But  blind,  and  tearful,  and  forlorn  I 
walk  with  little  men  ! — O  Fingal,  with  thy  race  of  war  I 
now  behold  thee  not !  The  wild  roes  feed  on  the  green 
tomb  of  the  mighty  king  of  Morven  !  Bleft  be  thy  foul, 
thou  king  of  fwords,  thou  moft  renowned  on  the  hills 
of  Cona  ! 

*  Gaul,  the  fon  of  Morni,  was  chief  of  a  tribe  that  difputed  long,  the  pre-emi- 
nence, with  Fingal  himfelf.  They  were  reduced  at  lad  to  obedience,  and  Gaul, 
from  an  enemy,  turned  Fin.^al's  belt  friend  and  greateft  hero.  His  charaftcr  is 
fomethin^j  like  that  of  Ajax  in  the  Iliad  ;  a  heio  of  more  ftrength  than  conducl  in 
battle.  He  was  very  fond  of  military  fame,  and  here  demaads  the  next  battle  to 
himfelf.  The  poet,  by  an  artifice,  removes  Fingal,  that  his  return  may  be  the 
Tnore  magnificent. 

+  The  poet  prepare?  us  for  the  dicaui  of  Fingal  in  the  next  book, 


■       I       N        G        A        L  : 

-   '  ' ■  '^ 

AN    ANCIENT 

EPIC         POEM. 
BOOK    IV.* 


ARGUMENT. 

THE  a£lion  of  the  poem  being  fufpended  by  night,  OfTian  takes  that  opportunity 
to  relate  his  own  aflions  at  the  lake  of  Lego,  and  his  courtfhip  of  Everallin,  who 
was  the  mother  of  Ofcar,  and  had  died  fome  time  before  the  expedition  of  Fin- 
gal  into  Ireland.  Her  ghoft  appears  to  him,  and  tells  him  that  Ofcar,  who 
had  been  fent,  the  beginning  of  the  night,  to  obferve  the  enemy,  was  engaged 
with  an  advanced  party,  and  almoft  overpowered.  Offian  relieves  his  fon;  and 
an  alarm  is  given  to  Fmgal  of  the  approach  of  Swaran.  The  king  rifes,  calls 
his  army  together,  and  as  he  had  promifed  the  preceding  night,  devolves  the 
command  on  Gaul  the  fon  of  Morni,  while  he  himfelf,  after  charging  his  fons 
to  behave  gallantly  and  defend  his  people,  retires  to  a  hill,  from  whence  he  could 
have  a  view  of  the  battle.  The  battle  joins;  the  poet  relates  Ofcar's  great  ani- 
ons. But  when  Ofcar,  in  conjun£lion  with  his  father,  conquered  in  one  wing, 
Gaul,  who  was  attacked  by  Swaran  in  peifon,  was  on  the  point  of  retreating  in 
the  other,  Fingal  fends  Ullin  his  bard  to  encourage  him  with  a  war  fong,  but, 
notwithftanding,  Swaran  prevails;  and  Gaul  and  his  army  are  obliged  to  give 
way.  Fingal,  defcending  from  the  hill,  rallies  them  again  :  Swaran  defifts  from 
the  purfuit,  poffefles  himfelf  of  a  rifing  ground,  reftores  the  ranks,  and  waits  the 
approach  of  Fingal.  The  king,  having  encouraged  his  men,  gives  the  ncceffary 
orders,  and  renews  the  battle,  Cuthullin,  who  with  his  friend  Connal,  and  Car- 
ril  his  bard,  had  retired  to  the  cave  of  Tura,  hearing  the  noife,  came  to  the  brov/ 
of  the  hill,  which  overlooked  the  field  of  battle,  where  he  faw  Fingal  engaged 
with  the  enemy.  He,  being  hindered  by  Connal  from  joinmg  Fingal,  who  was 
himfelf  upon  the  point  of  obtaining  a  complete  viftory,  fends  Carril  to  congra- 
tulate that  hero  on  his  fuccefs. 

WHO  comes  with  her  fongs  from  the  hill,  like  the 
bow  of  the  fhowery  Lena  ?    It  is  the  maid  of  the 
voice  of  love !  the  white-armed  daughter  of  Tofcar  1  Often, 

Z  haft 

*  Fingal  being  afleep,  and  the  aflion  fufpended  by  night,  the  poet  introduces  the 
ftory  of  his  courtfhip  of  Everallin  the  daughter  of  Branno.    The  epifode  is  necelfa- 
ry  to  clear  up  feveral  paffages  that  follow  in  the  poem ;  at  the  fame  lime  that  it  na- 
turally 


178 


F     I     N     G     A     L 


had  thou  heard  my  fong  ;  often  given  the  tear  of  beauty. 
Doit  thou  come  to  the  wars  of  thy  people  ?  to  hear  the 
aftions  of  Ofcar  ?  When  lliall  I  ceafe  to  mourn,  by  the 
flreams  of  refounding  Cona  ?  My  years  have  palfed  away 
in  battle.     My  age  is  darkened  with  grief  ! 

Daughter  of  the  hand  of  fnow  !  I  was  not  fo  mourn- 
ful and  blind  ;  I  was  not  fo  dark  and  forlorn,  when  Eve- 
ralHn  loved  me  !  Everallin  with  the  dark-brown  hair,  the 
white-bofomed  daughter  of  Branno !  A  thoufand  heroes 
fought  the  maid  :  flie  refufed  her  love  to  a  thoufand.  The 
ions  of  the  fword  were  defpifed  ;  for  graceful  in  her  eyes 
was  Offian  ! — I  went  in  fuit  of  the  maid,  to  Lego's  fable 
furge.  Twelve  of  my  people  were  there,  the  fons  of  flrea- 
my  Morven  !  We  came  to  Branno,  friend  of  ftrangers  ! 
Branno,  of  the  founding  mail !  "  From  whence,"  he  faid, 
"  are  the  arms  of  (leel  ?  Not  eafy  to  win  is  the  maid,  who 
has  denied  the  blue-eyed  fons  of  Erin  !  But  bleft  be  thou, 
O  fon  of  Fingal !  Happy  is  the  maid  that  waits  thee  ! 
Though  twelve  daughters  of  beauty  were  mine,  thine 
were  the  choice,  thou  fon  of  fame  !" 

He  opened  the  hall  of  the  maid,  the  dark-haired  Eve- 
rallin. Joy  kindled  in  our  manly  breads.  We  bleft  the 
maid  of  Branno. — Above  us  on  the  hill  appeared  the  peo- 
ple of  ftately  Cormac.  Eight  were  the  heroes  of  the  chief. 
The  heath  flamed  wide  with  their  arms.  There  Colla  ; 
there  Durra  of  wounds;  there  mighty  Tofcar,  andTago  ; 
there  Freftal  the  victorious  ftood ;  Dairo  of  the  happy 
deeds  ;  Dala,  the  battle's  bulwark  in  the  narrow  way  ! 
The  fword  flamed  In  the  hand  of  Cormac.  Graceful  was 
the  look  of  the  hero  ! — Eight  were  the  heroes  of  Offian. 
Ullin,  ftormy,  fon  of  war.  Mullo,  of  the  generous  deeds. 
The  noble,  the  graceful  Scelacha.  Oglan,  and  Cerdal 
the  wrathful.  Dumariccan's  brows  of  death  !  And  why 
fliould  Ogar  be  the  laft  ?  fo  wide  renowned  on  the  hills 
of  Ardven  ! 

Ogar  met  Dala  the  ftroncr,  face  to  face,  on  the  iieid 

of 

turnlly  brings  on  the  aftion  of  the  book,  which  may  be  fuppofed  to  begin  about  the 
middje  of  the  third  nis,ht  from  the  openini^  of  the  poem.  This  book,  as  many  of 
Offian's  other  compofitions,  is  addreffed  to  the  beautiful  Malvina  the  daughter  of 
Tofcar.  She  appears  to  have  been  in  love  with  Ofcar,  and  to  have  affcfted  the 
company  of  the  father  after  the  death  of  the  fon. 


Book  IV.        An   EPIC    POEM.  179 

of  heroes.  The  battle  of  the  chiefs  was  like  wind,  on 
ocean's  foamy  waves.  The  dagger  is  remembered  by 
Ogar ;  the  weapon  which  he  loved.  Nine  times  he 
drowned  it  in  Dala's  fide.  The  ftormy  battle  turned. 
Three  times  I  broke  on  Cormac's  fliield  :  three  times  he 
broke  his  fpear.  But,  unhappy  youth  of  love  !  I  cut  his 
head  away.  Five  times  I  ihook  it  by  the  lock.  The 
friends  of  Cormac  fled.— Whoever  would  have  told  me, 
lovely  maid,  when  then  I  ftrove  in  battle,  that  blind,  for- 
faken,  and  forlorn  I  now  fliould  pafs  the  night  ;  firm 
ought  his  mail  to  have  been  !  unmatched  his  arm  in  war  ! 

On  *  Lena's  gloomy  heath,  the  voice  of  mufic  died 
away.  The  unconitant  blaft  blew  hard.  The  high  oak 
fhook  its  leaves  around.  Of  Everallin  were  my  thoughts, 
when  in  all  the  light  of  beauty  flie  came  ;  her  blue  eyes 
rolling  in  tears.  She  flood  on  a  cloud  before  my  fight, 
and  fpoke  with  feeble  voice  :  "  Rife,  Oflian,  rife  and  fave 
my  fon  ;  fave  Ofcar  prince  of  men.  Near  the  red  oak  of 
Lubar's  ftream,  he  fights  v/ith  Lochlln's  fons."  She  funk 
into  her  cloud  again.  I  covered  me  with  fteel.  My  fpcar 
fupported  my  fleps :  my  rattling  armour  rung.  I  hum- 
med, as  I  was  wont  in  danger,  the  fongs  of  heroes  of  old. 
Like  diftant  thunder  Lochlin  heard.  They  fled  ;  my  fon 
purfued. 

I  CALLED  him,  like  a  diflant  ftream.  "  Ofcar,  return 
over  Lena.  No  farther  purfue  the  foe,"  I  faid,  "  though 
Oflian  is  behind  thee."  He  came  ;  and  pleafant  to  my 
ear  was  Ofcar's  founding  fteel.  "  Why  didft  thou  ftop 
my  hand,"  he  faid,  "  till  death  had  covered  all  ?  For 
dark  and  dreadful  by  the  ftream  they  met  thy  fon  and 
Fillan  !  They  watched  the  terrors  of  the  night.  Our 
fwords  have  conquered  fome.  But,  as  the  winds  of  night 
pour  the  ocean  over  the  white  fands  of  Mora,  fo  dark  ad- 
vance the  fons  of  Lochlin  over  Lena's  ruftling  heaih  ! 
The  ghofts  of  night  fliriek  afar :  I  have  feen  the  meteors 
of  death !    Let  me  awake  the  king  of  Morven  ;  he  that 

fmiles 

*  The  poet  returns  to  his  fubjefl.  If  one  coald  fix  the  time  of  the  year  in  which 
the  aftion  of  the  poem  happened,  from  the  fcene  delcribed  here,  I  fliould  be  tempt- 
ed to  place  it  in  autumn.  The  trees  flied  their  leaves,  and  the  winds  are  varia- 
i-'.'Ic,  both  which  circumflanccs  r,gree  with  that  fcafon  of  the  year. 


i8o  F    I    N     G    A    L  : 

fmiies  in  danger  !  he  that  is  like  the  fun  of  heaven  rifing 
in  a  ilorm  !" 

FiNGAL  had  ftarted  from  a  dream,  and  leaned  onTren- 
mor's  fhield  ;  the  dark-brown  fhield  of  his  fathers;  which 
they  had  lifted  of  old  in  war.  The  hero  had  feen,  in  his 
reft,  the  mournful  form  of  Agandecca.  She  came  from 
the  way  of  the  ocean.  She  flowly,  lonely,  moved  over 
Lena.  Her  face  was  pale  like  the  mift  of  Cromla  ;  dark 
were  the  tears  of  her  cheek.  She  often  raifed  her  dim 
hand  from  her  robe  ;  her  robe,  which  was  of  the  clouds 
of  the  defart :  Vne  raifed  her  dim  hand  over  Fingal,  and 
turned  away  her  filent  eyes  !  "  Why  weeps  the  daughter 
of  Starno  ?"  faid  Fingal,  with  a  figh  ;  "  why  is  thy  face 
fo  pale,  fair  wanderer  of  the  clouds  ?"  She  departed  on 
the  wind  of  Lena.  She  left  him  in  the  midft  of  the  night. 
She  mourned  the  fons  of  her  people,  that  were  to  fall  by 
the  hand  of  Fingal. 

The  hero  ftarted  from  reft.  Still  he  beheld  her  in  his 
fonl.  The  found  of  Ofcar's  fteps  approached.  The  king 
faw  the  grey  fliield  on  his  fide  ;  for  the  faint  beam  of  the 
morning  came  over  the  waters  of  Ullin.  "  What  do  the 
foes  in  their  fear  ?"  faid  the  rifmg  king  of  Morven  ;  "  or 
fly  they  through  ocean's  foam,  or  wait  they  the  battle  of 
fteel  ?  But  why  fliouid  Fingal  afk  ?  I  hear  their  voice  on 
the  early  wind  !  Fly  over  Lena's  heath,  O  Ofcar  :  awake 
our  friends  !'* 

The  king  ftood  by  the  ftone  of  Lubar.  Thrice  he  rear- 
ed his  terrible  voice.  The  deer  ftarted  from  the  fountains 
of  Cromla.  The  rocks  fliook  on  all  their  hills.  Like  the 
noife  of  a  hundred  mountain-ftreams,  that  burft,  and  roar, 
and  foam  :  like  the  clouds,  that  gather  to  a  tempeft  on 
the  blue  face  of  the  iky ;  fo  met  the  fons  of  the  defart, 
round  the  teriible  voice  of  Fingal  !  Pleafant  was  the 
voice  of  the  king  of  Morven  to  the  warriors  of  his  land ! 
Often  had  he  led  them  to  battle  ,  often  returned  with  the 
fpoils  of  the  foe  ! 

"  Come  to  battle,"  faid  the  king,  "  ye  children  of  echo- 
ing Selma  !  Come  to  the  death  of  thoufands  !  Comhal's 
fon  will  fee  the  fight.  My  fword  Ihall  wave  on  the  hill,  the 
defence  of  my  people  in  war.    But  never  may  you  need  it, 

warriors ; 


Book  IV.        An  EPIC   POEM.  181 

warriors ;  while  the  fon  of  Morni  fights,  the  chief  of  migh- 
ty men  !  He  fhall  lead  my  battle,  that  his  fame  may  rife  in 
fong  !  O  ye  ghofts  of  heroes  dead  !  ye  riders  of  the  ftorm 
of  Cromla !  receive  my  falling  people  with  joy,  and  bear 
them  to  your  hills.  And  may  the  blaft  of  Lena  carry  them 
over  my  feas,  that  they  may  come  to  my  filent  dreams,  and 
delight  my  foul  in  reit  ! — Fillan  and  Ofcar,  of  the  dark- 
brown  hair  !  fair  Ryno,  with  the  pointed  fteel !  advance 
with  valour  to  the  fight.  Behold  the  fon  of  Morni.  Let 
your  fwords  be  like  his  in  ftrife  :  behold  the  deeds  of  his 
hands.  Protect  the  friends  of  your  father.  Remember 
the  chiefs  of  old.  My  children,  I  will  fee  you  yet,  though 
here  ye  fhould  fall  in  Erin.  Soon  fliall  our  cold,  pale 
ghofts  meet  in  a  cloud  on  Cona's  eddying  winds." 

Now  like  a  dark  and  ftormy  cloud,  edged  round  with 
the  red  lightning  of  heaven  ;  flying  weftward  from  the 
morning's  beam,  the  king  of  Selma  removed.  Terrible 
is  the  light  of  his  armour  ;  two  fpears  are  in  his  hand. 
His  grey  hair  falls  on  the  wind.  He  often  looks  back  on 
the  war.  Three  bards  attend  the  fon  of  fame,  to  bear 
his  words  to  the  chiefs.  High  on  Cromla's  fide  he  fat, 
waving  the  lightning  of  his  fword,  and  as  he  v/aved  we 
moved. 

Joy  rifes  in  Ofcar's  face.  His  cheek  is  red.  His  eye 
Iheds  tears.  The  fword  is  a  beam  of  fire  in  his  hand. 
He  came,  and,  fmiling,  fpoke  to  OfTian.  "  O  ruler  of 
the  fight  of  fteel !  my  father,  "hear  thy  fon  !  Retire  with 
Morven's  mighty  chief.  Give  me  the  fame  of  Oflian.  If 
here  I  fall,  O  chief !  remember  that  breaft  of  fnow,  the 
lonely  fun-beam  of  my  love,  the  white-handed  daughter 
of  Tofcar !  For,  with  red  cheek  from  the  rock,  bending 
over  the  ftream,  her  foft  hair  flies  about  her  bofom,  as 
(he  pours  the  figh  for  Ofcar.  Tell  her  I  am  on  my 
hills,  a  lightly-bounding  fon  of  the  wind  ;  tell  her,  that, 
in  a  cloud,  I  may  meet  the  lovely  maid  of  Tofcar." 
"  Raife,  Ofcar,  rather  raife  my  tomb.  I  will  not  yield 
the  war  to  thee.  The  firft  and  bloodieft  in  the  ftrife,  my 
arm  fhall  teach  thee  how  to  fight.  But,  remember,  my 
fon,  to  place  this  fword,  this  bow,  the  horn  of  my  deer, 
within  that  dark  and  narrow  houfe,  whofe  mark  is  one 

grey 


i82  F    I    N     G     A    L: 

prey  ftone  !  Ofcar,  I  have  no  love  to  leave  to  the  care  of 
my  foil.  Everallin  is  no  more,  the  lovely  daughter  of 
Branno !" 

Such  v/ere  our  words,  when  Gaul's  loud  voice  came 
growing  on  the  wind.  He  waved  on  high  the  fword  of 
his  father.  We  rufhed  to  death  and  wounds.  As  waves, 
white-bubbling  over  the  deep,  come  fwelling,  roaring  on: 
as  rocks  of  ooze  meet  roaring  waves  ;  fo  foes  attacked 
and  fought.  Man  met  with  man,  and  ileel  with  fleel. 
Shields  found,  and  warriors  fall.  As  a  hundred  hammers 
on  the  red  fon  of  the  furnace,  fo  rofe,  fo  rung  their 
fwords  ! 

Gaul  ruflied  on,  like  a  whirlwind  in  Ardven.  The 
deftruftion  of  heroes  is  on  his  fword.  Swaran  was  like 
the  fire  of  the  defart  in  the  echoing  heath  of  Gormal  ! 
How  can  I  give  to  the  fong  the  death  of  many  fpears  ?  My 
fword  rofe  high,  and  flamed  in  the  flrife  of  blood.  Cl- 
ear, terrible  wert  thou,  my  bed,  my  greateft  fon !  I  re- 
joiced in  my  fecret  foul,  when  his  fword  flamed  over  the 
flain.  They  fled  amain  through  Lena's  heath.  We  pur- 
fued  and  flew.  As  ftones  that  bound  from  rock  to  rock: 
as  axes  in  echoing  woods  :  as  thunder  rolls  from  hiil  to 

o 

hill,  in  difmal  broken  peals  ;  fo  blow  fucceeded  to  blow, 
and  death  to  death,  from  the  hand  of  Ofcar  and  mine. 

But  Svvaran  clofed  round  Morni's  fon,  as  the  llrength 
of  the  tide  of  Inifliore.  The  king  half-rofe  from  his  hill 
at  the  fight.  He  half-aflTumed  the  fpear.  "  Go,  Ullin, 
go,  my  aged  bard,"  begun  the  king  of  Morven.  "  Re- 
mind the  mighty  Gaul  of  war.  Remind  him  of  his 
fathers.  Support  the  yielding  fight  with  fong  ;  for 
fong  enlivens  v^-ar."  Tall  Ullin  went,  wdth  ftep  of  age, 
and  fpoke  to  the  king  of  fwords.  "  Son  *  of  the  chief  of 
generous  fteeds  !  high-bounding  king  of  fpears  !  Strong 
arm  in  every  perilous  toil  !  Hard  heart  that  never  yields  ! 
Chief  of  the  pointed  arms  of  death  !  Cut  down  the  foe: 
let  no  white  fail  bound  round  dark  Iniftore.  Be  thine 
arm  like  thunder  ;  thine  eyes  like  fire  ;  thy  heart  of  folid 

rock. 

*  The  ciiiloiTi  of  encouraging  men  in  battle  with  extempore  rhymes,  has  been 
c.r.iied  down  alrnoft  to  our  own  times.  Several  of  thefe  war  fongs  are  extant,  but 
the  nioft  of  them  are  only  a  group  of  epithets,  without  cither  beauty  or  harmony, 
utterly  deftitute  of  poetical  merit. 


Book  IV.         An   EPIC    POEM.  183 

rock.  Whirl  round  thy  fword  as  a  meteor  at  night ;  lift 
thy  Ihield  like  the  flame  of  death.  Son  of  the  chief  of 
generous  fteeds,  cut  down  the  foe.  Deltroy  !"  The  he- 
ro's heart  beat  high.  But  Swaran  came  with  battle.  He 
cleft  the  fliield  of  Gaul  in  twain.    The  fons  of  Selma  fled. 

FiNGAL  at  once  arofe  in  arms.  Thrice  he  reared  his 
dreadful  voice.  Cromla  anfwered  around.  The  fons  of 
the  defart  fl:ood  fl:ill.  They  bent  their  blufliing  faces  to 
earth,  afliamed  at  the  prefence  of  the  king.  He  came, 
like  a  cloud  of  rain  in  the  day  of  the  fun,  when  flow  it 
rolls  on  the  hill,  and  fields  expeft  the  fliower.  Silence 
attends  its  flow  progrefs  aloft ;  but  the  tempeil  is  foon  to 
arife.  Swaran  beheld  the  terrible  king  of  Morven.  He 
fl:opped  in  the  midfl:  of  his  courfe.  Dark  he  leaned  on 
his  fpear,  rolling  his  red  eyes  around.  Silent  and  tall,  he 
feemed  as  an  oak  on  the  banks  of  Lubar,  which  had  its 
branches  blafled  of  old  by  the  lightning  of  heaven.  It 
bends  over  the  fl:ream  :  the  grey  mofs  whifliles  in  the 
wind :  fo  ft:ood  the  king.  Then  flowly  he  retired  to  the 
rifmg  heath  of  Lena.  His  thoufands  pour  around  the 
hero.    Darknefs  gathers  on  the  hill ! 

FiNGAL,  like  a  beam  from  heaven,  flione  in  the  midft 
of  his  people.  His  heroes  gather  around  him.  He  fends 
forth  the  voice  of  his  power.  "  Raife  my  fl:andards  on 
high  ;  fpread  them  on  Lena's  wind,  like  the  flames  of  an 
hundred  hills !  Let  them  found  on  the  winds  of  Erin,  and 
remind  us  of  the  fight.  Ye  fons  of  the  roaring  fl:reams, 
that  pour  from  a  thoufand  hills,  be  near  the  king  of  Mor- 
ven !  attend  to  the  words  of  his  power  !  Gaul,  ftrongefl 
arm  of  death!  O  Ofcar,  of  the  future  fights!  Connal, 
fon  of  the  blue  fliields  of  Sora !  Dermid,  of  the  dark- 
brown  hair !  Ofllan,  king  of  many  longs,  be  near  your 
father's  arm  !"  We  reared  the  fun-beam  *  of  battle  ;  the 
fl:andard  of  the  king !  Each  hero  exulted  with  joy,  as, 
weaving,  it  flew  on  the  w-ind.  It  was  fl.udded  with  gold 
above,  as  the  blue  wide  fliell  of  the  nightly  fliy.  Each 
hero  had  his  fl:andard  too  ;  and  each  his  gloomy  man ! 

"Behold," 

*  Fin.^al's  fiandard  was  diftinguifhcd  bv  the  name  of  fun-beam ;  probably  on  ac- 
count of  us  bri_2,ht  colour,  and  its  bein^  fludded  with  gold.  To  bcgui  a  battle  is 
cxprelTed,  in  old  compofition,  by  lifting  cf  th:  fun-beam. 


384  F    I    N    G    A    L: 

"  Behold,"  faid  the  king  of  generous  fhells,  "  how 
Lochlin  divides  on  Lena  !  They  ftand  like  broken  clouds 
on  a  hill ;  or  an  half  confumed  grove  of  oaks  ;  when  we 
fee  the  fcy  through  its  branches,  and  the  meteor  paiTing 
behind!  Let  every  chief  among  the  friends  of  Fingal  take 
a  dark  troop  of  thofe  that  frown  fo  high ;  nor  let  a  fon  of 
the  echoing  groves,  bound  on  the  waves  of  Iniftore ! 

"  Mine,"  faid  Gaul,  "  be  the  feven  chiefs,  that  came 
from  Lano's  lake."  "  Let  Iniftore's  dark  king,"  faid 
Ofcar,  "  come  to  the  fword  of  Offian's  fon."  "  To  mine 
the  king  of  Inifcon,"  faid  Connal,  "  heart  of  fleel!"  "  Or 
Mudan's  chief  or  I,"  faid  brown-haired  Dermid,  "  fhali 
fleep  on  clay-cold  earth."  My  choice,  though  now  fo 
weak  and  dark,  was  Terman's  battling  king :  I  promifed 
with  my  hand  to  win  the  hero's  dark-brown  fhield. 
"  Bleft  and  vidtorious  be  my  chiefs,"  faid  Fingal  of  the 
mildeft  look.  "  Swaran,  king  of  roaring  waves,  thou 
art  the  choice  of  Fingal !" 

Now,  like  an  hundred  different  winds,  that  pour  thro' 
many  vales ;  divided,  dark  the  fons  of  Selma  advanced. 
Cromla  echoed  around  !  How  can  I  relate  the  deaths, 
when  we  clofed  in  the  ftrife  of  arms!  O  daughter  of  Tof- 
car  !  bloody  v/ere  our  hands  !  The  gloomy  ranks  of 
Lochlin  fell,  like  the  banks  of  the  roaring  Cona !  Our 
arms  were  viftorious  on  Lena  :  each  chief  fulfilled  his 
promife  !  Befide  the  murmur  of  Branno  thou  didfl  often 
fit,  O  maid!  thy  white  bofom  rofe  frequent,  like  the 
down  of  the  fwan  when  flow  flie  fwims  on  the  lake,  and 
fidelong  winds  blow  on  her  ruf  led  wing.  Thou  hail  feen 
the  fun  retire,  red  and  flow  behind  his  cloud :  night  ga- 
thering round  on  the  mountain,  while  the  unfrequent 
blaft  roared  in  the  narrow  vales.  At  length  the  rain  beats 
hard  :  thunder  rolls  in  peals.  Lightning  glances  on  the 
rocks!  Spirits  ride  on  beams  of  fire;  The  llrength  of  the 
mountain-ilreams  comes  roaring  dovn  the  hills.  Such 
was  the  noife  of  battle,  maid  oi  the  arms  of  fnow !  Why, 
daughter  of  Tofcar,  why  that  tear?  The  maids  of  Lochlin 
have  caufe  to  weep  !  The  people  of  their  country  tell. 
Bloody  were  the  blue  fwords  of  the  race  of  my  heroes! — 
But  I  am  fad,  forlorn,  and  blind :  no  more  the  compa- 
nion 


Book  IV.        An  EPIC   POEM.  185 

nion  of  heroes.     Give,  lovely  maid,  to  me  thy  tears.     I 
have  feen  the  tombs  of  all  my  friends  ! 

It  was  then,  by  Fiogars  hand,  a  hero  fell,  to  his  grief! 
Grey-haired  he  rolled  in  the  dull.  He  lifted  his  faint  eyes 
to  the  king :  "  And  is  it  by  me  thou  had  fallen,''  faid 
the  fon  of  Comhal,  "  thou  friend  of  Agandecca  !  I  have 
feen  thy  tears  for  the  maid  of  my  love,  in  the  halls  of 
the  bloody  Starno  !  Thou  haft  been  the  foe  of  the  foes  of 
my  love,  and  haft  thou  fallen  by  my  hand  ?  Raife,  Ullin, 
raife  the  grave  of  Mathon ;  and  give  his  name  to  Agan- 
decca's  fong.  Dear  to  my  foul  haft  thou  been,  thou 
darkly-dwelling  maid  of  Ardven  !" 

CuTHULLiN,  from  the  cave  of  Cromla,  heard  the  noife 
of  the  troubled  war.  He  called  to  Connal  chief  of  fwords ; 
to  Carril  of  other  times.  The  grey-haired  heroes  heard 
his  voice.  They  took  their  pointed  fpears.  They  came, 
and  faw  the  tide  of  battle,  like  ocean's  crowded  waves  ; 
when  the  dark  wind  blows  from  the  deep,  and  rolls  the 
billows  through  the  fandy  vale  !  Cuthullin  kindled  at  the 
fight.  Darknefs  gathered  on  his  brow.  His  hand  is  011 
the  fword  of  his  fathers  :  his  red-rolling  eyes  on  the  foe. 
He  thrice  attempted  to  rufli  to  battle.  He  thrice  was  ftopt 
by  Connal.  "  Chief  of  the  ifle  of  mift,"  he  faid,  "  Fin- 
gal  fubdues  the  foe.  Seek  not  a  part  of  the  fame  of  the 
king  ;  himfelf  is  like  the  ftorm  !" 

"  Then,  Carril,  go,"  replied  the  chief,  "  go,  greet 
the  king  of  Morven.  When  Lochlin  falls  away  like  a 
ftream  after  rain :  when  the  noife  of  the  battle  is  paft ; 
then  be  thy  voice  fweet  in  his  ear  to  praife  the  king  of 
Selma !  Give  him  the  fword  of  Caithbat.  Cuthullin  is 
not  worthy  to  lift  the  arms  of  his  fathers !— Come,  O  ye 
ghofts  of  the  lonely  Cromla  !  ye  fouls  of  chiefs  that  are 
no  more  !  be  near  the  fteps  of  Cuthullin ;  talk  to  him  in 
the  cave  of  his  grief.  Never  more  fhall  I  be  rencv/ned, 
among  the  mighty  in  the  land.  I  am  a  beam  that  has 
Ihone  ;  a  mift  that  has  fled  away :  when  the  blaft  of  the 
morning  came,  and  brightened  the  ihaggy  fide  of  the  hill! 
Connal !  talk  of  arms  no  more :  departed  is  my  fame. 
My  fighs  fliall  be  on  Cromla's  wind ;  till  my  footfteps 

A  a  ceafe 


186  F    I    N    G     A    L  : 

ceafe  to  be  feeii.  And  thou,  white-bofom'ed  Bragela, 
mourn  over  the  fall  of  my  fame.  Vanquilhed  I  will  never 
return  to  thee,  thou  fun-beam  of  my  foul  !'* 


FINGAL 


F       I       N       G       A       L 

A  N    A  N  C  I  E  N  T 

EPIC        POEM, 
:b  O  O  K    V. 


ARGUA4ENT. 


CUTHULLIN  and  Connal  flill  remain  on  the  hill.  Fingal  and  Swaran  meet ; 
the  combat  is  defcribed.  Swaran  is  overcome,  bound  and  delivered  over  as  a 
prifoner  to  the  care  of  Offian  and  Gaul  the  fon  of  Morni;  Fingal,  his  younger 
fons,  and'Ofcar,  ftill  purfue  the  enemy.  The  epifode  of  Orla,  a  chief  of  Loch, 
lin,  who  was  mortally  wounded  in  the  battle,  is  introduced.  Fingal,  touched 
with  the  death  of  Orla,  orders  the  purfuit  to  be  difcontiriUed  ;  and  calling  his 
Tons  together,  he  is  informed  that  Ryno,  the  youngeft  of  them,  was  (lain.  He 
laments  his  death,  hears  the  ftory  of  Lamderg  and  GelchofTa,  and  returns  to- 
wards the  place  where  he  had  left  Swaran.  Cariil,  who  had  been  fent  by  Cu- 
thullin  to  congratulate  Fingal  on  his  viftory,  comes  in  the  mean  time  to  Offiai:. 
The  conyerfation  of  the  two  poets  clofes  the  aflion  of  the  fourth  day. 

ON  Cromla's  refounding  fide,  Connal  fpoke  to  the 
chief  of  the  noble  car  :  "  Why  that  gloom,  fon  of 
Semo  ?  Our  friends  are  the  mighty  in  fight.  Renowned 
art  thou,  O  warrior  !  many  were  the  deaths  of  thy  ileel. 
Often  has  Bragela  met,  wuth  blue-rolling  eyes  of  joy  ; 
often  has  fhe  met  her  hero,  returning  in  the  midft  of  the 
valiant ;  v/hen  his  fword  was  red  with  flaughter  ;  when 
his  foes  were  filent  in  the  fields  of  the  tomb.  Pleafant  to 
her  eajs  were  thy  bards,  when  thy  deeds  arofe  in  fong ! 

"  But  behold  the  king  of  Morven  !  He  m.oves,  below, 
like  a  pillar  of  fire.  His  (Irength  is  like  the  fiireani  of 
Lubar,  or  the  wind  of  the  echoing  Cromla  ;  when  the 
branchy  forefl:s  of  night  .are  torn  from  all  their  rocks, 
Happy  are  thy  people,  O  Fingal !  thine  arm  fiiall  finifli 
their  wars.    Thou  art  the  firfl  in  their  dangers :  the  wifefl 

in 


i88  F    I    N     G    A    L  : 

in  the  days  of  their  peace.  Thou  fpeakefl,  and  thy  thou- 
fands  obey :  armies  tremble  at  the  found  of  thy  fleel. 
Happy  are  thy  people,  O  Fingal,  king  of  refounding  Sel- 
j^a  ! — Who  is  that,  fo  dark  and  terrible,  coming  in  the 
thunder  of  his  courfe  ?  Who  but  Starno's  fon,  to  meet  the 
king  of  Morven  ? — Behold  the  battle  of  the  chiefs  !  It  is 
the  ftorm  of  the  ocean,  when  two  fpirits  meet  far  diftant, 
and  contend  for  the  rolling  of  waves  :  the  hunter  hears 
the  noife  on  his  hill  ;  he  fees  the  high  billows  advancing 
to  Ardven's  {hore  !" 

Such  were  the  words  of  Connal,  when  the  heroes  met 
in  fight.  There  was  the  clang  of  arms !  there  every 
blow,  like  the  hundred  hammers  of  the  furnace  !  Terri- 
ble is  the  battle  of  the  kings  ;  dreadful  the  look  of  their 
eyes  !  Their  dark-brown  fhields  are  cleft  in  twain.  Their 
fleel  flies,  broken,  from  their  helms.  They  fling  their 
weapons  down.  Each  rufhes  to  his  hero's  grafp.  Their 
fmewy  arms  bend  round  each  other  :  they  turn  from  fide 
to  fide,  and  flrain  and  flretch  their  large  fpreading  limbs 
below.  But,  when  the  pride  of  their  flrength  arofe,  they 
fliook  the  hill  with  their  heels.  Rocks  tumble  from  their 
places  on  high  ;  the  green-headed  bufhes  are  overturned. 
At  length  the  flrength  of  Swaran  fell :  the  king  of  the 
groves  is  bound.  Thus  have  I  feen  on  Cona — but  Cona 
I  behold  no  more  ! — thus  have  I  feen  two  dark  hills  re- 
moved from  their  place,  by  the  flrength  of  the  burfling 
ftream.  They  turn  from  fide  to  fide  in  their  fall ;  their 
tall  oaks  meet  one  another  on  high.  Then  they  tumble 
together,  v/ith  all  their  rocks  and  trees.  The  flreams  are 
turned  by  their  fide  :  the  red  ruin  is  feen  afar. 

"  Sons  of  diflant  Morven,"  faid  Fingal,  "  guard  the 
king  of  Lochlin.  He  is  flrong  as  his  thoufand  waves. 
His  hand  is  taught  to  war.  His  race  is  of  the  times  of 
old.  Gaul,  thou  firft  of  my  heroes;  Ofrian,king  of  fongs, 
attend.  He  is  the  friend  of  Agandecca ;  raife  to  joy  his 
grief.  But  Ofcar,  Fillan,  and  Ryno,  ye  children  of  the 
race  !  purfue  Lochlin  over  Lena  ;  that  no  vellel  may  here- 
after bound  on  the  dark-rolling  waves  of  Iniflore  !" 

They  flew  fudden  acrofs  the  heath.  He  flowly  moved, 
like  a  cloud  of  thunder,  when  the  fultry  plain  of  fummer 

is 


BookV.        An  EPIC   POEM.  189 

is  filent  and  dark !  His  fword  Is  before  him  as  a  fun- 
beam  ;  terrible  as  the  ftreaming  meteor  of  night.  He 
came  toward  a  chief  of  Lochlin.  He  fpoke  to  the  fon 
of  the  wave.  "  Who  is  that  fo  dark  and  fad,  at  the  rock 
of  the  roaring  flream  ?  He  cannot  bound  over  its  courfe : 
How  {lately  is  the  chief !  His  boify  Ihieid  is  on  his  fide  ; 
his  fpear,  like  the  tree  of  the  defart !  Youth  of  the  dark- 
red  hair,  art  thou  of  the  foes  of  Fingal  ?" 

"  I  AM  a  fon  of  Lochlin,"  he  cries ;  "  ftrong  is  my 
arm  in  war.  My  fpoufe  is  weeping  at  home.  Orla  (hall 
never  return  !"  "  Or  fights  or  yields  the  hero  ?"  faid 
Fingal  of  the  noble  deeds.  "  Foes  do  not  conquer  in  my 
prefence :  my  friends  are  renowned  in  the  hall.  Son  of 
the  wave,  follow  me  ;  partake  the  feafl  of  my  fhells  :  pur- 
fue  the  deer  of  my  defart :  be  thou  the  friend  of  Fingal." 
"  No :"  faid  the  hero,  "  I  affift  the  feeble.  My  ftrength 
is  with  the  weak  in  arms.  My  fword  has  been  always  un- 
matched, O  warrior  :  let  the  king  of  Morven  yield  !" 
"  I  never  yielded,  Orla  ;  Fingal  never  yielded  to  man. 
Draw  thy  fword,  and  chufe  thy  foe.   Many  are  my  heroes  !" 

"  Does  then  the  king  refufe  the  fight  ?"  faid  Orla  of 
the  dark-brown  fhield.  "  Fingal  is  a  match  for  Orla;  and 
he  alone  of  all  his  race  ! — But,  king  of  Morven,  If  I  fhall 
fall ;  as  one  time  the  warrior  mufl  die  ;  raife  my  tomb 
in  the  midft  :  let  It  be  the  greateft  on  Lena.  Send,  over 
the  dark-blue  wave,  the  fword  of  Orla  to  the  fpoufe  of 
his  love  ;  that  ihe  may  fhew  it  to  her  fon,  with  tears,  to 
kindle  his  foul  to  war."  "  Son  of  the  mournful  tale," 
faid  Fingal,  "  why  dofh  thou  awaken  my  tears  ?  One  day 
the  warriors  muft  die,  and  the  children  fee  their  ufelefs 
arms  In  the  hall.  But,  Orla,  thy  tomb  Ihall  rife  :  thy 
white-bofomed  fpoufe  fhall  weep  over  thy  fword." 

They  fought  on  the  heath  of  Lena.  Feeble  was  the 
arm  of  Orla.  The  fword  of  Fingal  defcended,  and  cleft 
his  flileld  In  twain.  It  fell  and  glittered  on  the  ground, 
as  the  moon  on  the  ruffled  ftream.  "  King  of  Morven," 
faid  the  hero,  "  lift  thy  fword  and  pierce  my  bread. 
Wounded  and  faint  from  battle,  my  friends  have  left  me 
here.     The  mournful  tale  fhall  come  to  my  love,  on  the 

banks 


igo  F    I    N    G    A    L  : 

banks  of  the  flreamy  Lota;  when  llie  is  alone  in  the  wood; 
and  the  ruflling  blaft  in  the  leaves  !'* 

"  No;"  faid  the  king  of  Morven,  "  I  will  never  wound 
thee,  Orla.  On  the  banks  of  Lota  let  her  fee  thee, 
efcaped  from  the  hands  of  war.  Let  thy  grey-haired  fa- 
ther, who,  perhaps,  is  blind  with  age ;  let  him  hear  the 
found  of  thy  voice,  and  brighten  within  his  hall.  With 
joy  let  the  hero  rife  and  fearch  for  his  fon  with  his  hands  !'* 
"  But  never  will  he  find  him,  Fingal;"  faid  the  youth  of 
the  ftreamy  Lota.  "  On  Lena's  heath  I  mud  die:  foreign 
bards  fhall  talk  of  me.  My  broad  belt  covers  my  wound 
of  death.    I  give  it  to  the  wind  !" 

The  dark  blood  poured  from  his  fide ;  he  fell  pale  on 
the  heath  of  Lena.  Fingal  bent  over  him  as  he  dies,  and 
called  his  younger  chiefs.  "  Ofcar  and  Fillan,  my  fons, 
raife  high  the  memory  of  Orla.  Here  let  the  dark-haired 
hero  refl,  far  from  the  fpoufe  of  his  love.  Here  let  him 
red,  in  his  own  narrow  houfe,  far  from  the  found  of  Lota. 
The  feeble  will  find  his  bow  at  home;  but  will  not  be  able 
to  bend  it.  His  faithful  dogs  howl  on  his  hills ;  his 
boars,  which  he  ufed  to  purfue,  rejoice.    Fallen  is  the  arm 

of  battle!  the  mighty  among  the  valiant  is  low ! Exalt 

the  voice,  and  blow  the  horn,  ye  fons  of  the  king  of 
Morven  !  Let  us  go  back  to  Swaraji,  to  fend  the  night 
away  in  fong.  Fillan,  Ofcar,  and  Ryno,  fly  over  the 
heath  of  Lena.  Where,  Ryno,  art  thou,  young  fon  of 
fame  ?  Thou  art  not  wont  to  be  the  lait  to  anfwer  thy  fa- 
ther's voice  !" 

"  Ryno,"  faid  UUin  fird  of  bards,  "  is  with  the  awful 
forms  of  his  fathers  :  with  Trathal  king  of  fhields  ;  wath 
Trenmor  of  mighty  deeds.  The  youth  is  low,  the  youth 
is  pale ;  he  lies  on  Lena's  heath  !"  "  Fell  the  fwifted  in 
the  race,"  faid  the  king,  "  the  fird  to  bev:.d  the  bow  ? 
Thou  fcarce  had  been  known  to  me  :  why  did  young 
Ryno  fall?  But  fleep  thou  foftly  on  Lena,  Fingal  fliall 
foon  behold  thee.  Soon  fliall  my  voice  be  heard  no  more, 
and  my  footdeps  ceafe  to  be  feen.  The  bards  will  tell  of 
Fingal's  name.  The  dones  will  talk  of  me.  But,  Ryno, 
thou  art  low  indeed !  thou  had  not  received  thy  fame. 
Ullin,  drike  the  harp  for  Ryno;  tell  what  the  chief  would 

have 


BookV.        An  epic   POEM.  191 

have  been.  Farewel,  thou  firft  in  every  field !  No  more 
fhall  I  dired  thy  dart !  Thou  that  haft  been  fo  fair !  I  be- 
hold thee  not.  Farewel !"  The  tear  is  on  the  cheek  of 
the  king,  for  terrible  was  his  fon  in  war.  His  fon  !  that 
was  like  a  beam  of  fire  by  night  on  a  hill ;  when  the  fo- 
refts  fink  down  in  its  courfe,  and  the  traveller  trembles  at 
the  found  !  But  the  winds  drive  it  beyond  the  fteep :  it 
finks  from  fight,  and  darknefs  prevails. 

"  Whose  fame  is  in  that  dark-green  tomb  ?'*  begun 
the  king  of  generous  (hells:  "  four  ftones  with  their  heads 
of  mofs  ft  and  there !  They  mark  the  narrow  houfe  of 
death.  Near  it  let  Ryno  reft.  A  neighbour  to  the  brave 
let  him  lie.  Some  chief  of  fame  is  here,  to  fly,  with  my 
fon,  on  clouds.  O  UUin,  raife  the  fongs  of  old.  Awake 
their  memory  in  their  tomb.  If  in  the  field  they  never 
fled,  my  fon  fhall  reft  by  their  fide.  He  ftiall  reft,  far  dif- 
tant  from  Morven,  on  Lena's  refounding  plains  !" 

"  Here,"  faid  the  bard  of  fong,  "  here  reft  the  firft 
of  heroes.  Silent  is  Lamderg  *  in  this  place  :  dumb  is 
Ullin  king  of  fwords :  And  who,  foft  fmiling  from  her 
cloud,  ftiews  me  her  face  of  love  ?  Why,  daughter,  why 
fo  pale  art  thou,  firft  of  the  maids  of  Cromla  ?  Doft  thou 
fleep  with  the  foes  in  battle,  white-bofomed  daughter  of 
Tuathal?  Thou  haft  been  the  love  of  thoufands,  but  Lam- 
derg was  thy  love.  He  came  to  Tura's  molfy  towers,  and, 
ftriking  his  dark  buckler,  fpoke :  "  Where  is  Gelchoifa, 
my  love,  the  daughter  of  the  noble  Tuathal?  I  left  her  in 
the  hall  of  Tura,  when  I  fought  with  great  Ulfadda.  Re- 
turn foon,  O  Lamderg,  fhe  faid,  for  here  I  fit  in  grief. 
Her  white  breaft  rofe  with  fighs.  Her  cheek  w^as  wet 
with  tears.  But  I  fee  her  not  coming  to  meet  me ;  to 
footh  my  foul  after  war.  Silent  is  the  hall  of  my  joy !  I 
hear  not  the  voice  of  the  bard.  Bran  f  does  not  iliake 
his  chains  at  the  gate,  glad  at  the  coming  of  Lamderg. 

Where 

*  Lamh-dhearg  fignifies  bloody  hand.  Gelchoffa,  zvhiU  lagged.  Tuathal,  furly, 
Ulfadda,  long  beard.     Fcrchios,  the  conqueror  of  mm. 

t  Bran  is  a  common  name  of  arey-hounds  to  this  day.  It  is  a  cuftom  m  the 
north  of  Scotland,  to  give  the  names  of  the  heroes  mentioned  in  this  poem,  to 
their  dogs )  a  proof  that  they  arc  familiar  to  the  ear,  and  their  fame  generally 
known. 


192 


F    I    N     G     A    L 


Where  is   Gelchofla  my  love,  the  mild  daughter  of  the 
generous  Tuathal  ?" 

"  LamdkrgI'*  fays  Ferchios  fon  of  Aidon,  "  Gelchofla 
moves  flately  on  Cromla.  She  and  the  maids  of  the  bow 
purfue  the  flying  deer  !"  "  Ferchios  1"  replied  the  chief 
of  Cromla,  "  no  noife  meets  the  ear  of  Lamderg!  No  found 
is  in  the  woods  of  Lena.  No  deer  fly  in  my  fight.  No 
panting  dog  purfues.  I  fee  not  GelchoflTa  my  love,  fair  as 
the  full  moon  fetting  on  the  hills.  Go,  Ferchios,  go  to 
Allad*,  the  grey-haired  fon  of  the  rock.  His  dwelling  is  in 
the  circle  of  ftones.  He  may  knov/  of  the  bright  Gelchofla!" 

"  The  fon  of  Aidon  went.  He  fpoke  to  the  ear  of 
age.  "  Allad !  dweller  of  rocks :  thou  that  tremblefl: 
alone !  what  faw  thine  eyes  of  age  ?"  "  I  faw,"  anfwered 
Allad  the  old,  "  Uilin,  the  fon  of  Cairbar.  He  came,  in 
darknefs,  from  Cromla.  He  hummed  a  furly  fong,  like 
a  blafl;  in  a  leaflefs  wood.  He  entered  the  hall  of  Tura. 
"  Lamderg,"  he  faid,  "  moll  dreadful  of  men,  fight  or 
yield  to  UlUn."  "  Lamderg,"  replied  Gelcholfa,  "  the 
fon  of  battle,  is  not  here.  He  fights  Ulfadda  mighty  chief. 
He  is  not  here,  thou  firfl:  of  men  !  But  Lamderg  never 
yields.  He  will  fight  the  fon  of  Cairbar !"  "  Lovely  art 
thou,"  faid  terrible  Ullin,  "  daughter  of  the  generous 
Tuathal.  I  carry  thee  to  Cairbar's  "halls.  The  valiant 
lliall  have  Gelchofla.  Three  days  I  remain  on  Cromla, 
to  wait  that  fon  of  battle,  Lamderg.  On  the  fourth  Gel- 
cholfa is  mine ;  if  the  mighty  Lamderg  flies." 

"  Allad  !"  faid  the  chief  of  Cromla,  "  peace  to  thy 
dreams  in  the  cave.  Ferchios,  found  the  horn  of  Lam- 
derg, that  Ullin  may  hear  in  his  halls."  Lamderg,  like 
a  roaring  ftorm,  afcended  the  hill  from  Tura.  He  hum- 
med a  furly  fong  as  he  went,  like  the  noife  of  a  falling 
ilream..  He  darkly  flood  upon  the  hill,  like  a  cloud  va- 
rying its  form  to  the  wind.  He  rolled  a  flone,  the  fign  of 
war.  Ullin  heard  in  Cairbar's  hall.  The  hero  heard, 
uith  joy,  his  foe.     He  took  his  father's  fpear.     A  fmile 

brightens 

*  Allad  is  a  druiJ :  he  is  called  the  fon  of  the  rock,  fiom  his  dwelling  in  a  cave ; 
and  the  circle  of  Hones  here  mentioned  is  the  pale  of  the  druidical  temple.  He 
IS  here  confultcd  as  one  who  had  a  fupernatural  knowledge  of  things.  From  the 
druids,  no  doubt,  came  the  ridiculcus  uoliou  of  the  fecond  fight,  which  prevailed 
m  the  highlands  and  ifles. 


BookV.        An  epic  POEM.  193 

brightens  his  dark-brown  cheek,  as  he  places  his  fword 
by  his  fide.  The  dagger  glitrered  in  his  hand.  He  whift- 
led  as  he  went. 

"  Gelchossa  faw  the  filent  chief,  as  a  v/reath  of  mill 
afcending  the  hill.  She  ftruck  her  white  and  heaving 
breaft  ;  and,  filent,  tearful,  feared  for  Lanider<j.  "  Cr.ir- 
bar,  hoary  chief  of  fnelis,"  faid  the  maid  of  the  tender 
hand.  "  I  mud  bend  the  bow  on  Cromla.  I  fee  the 
dark-brown  hinds  !'*  She  hailed  up  the  hili.  In  vain  ! 
the  gloomy  heroes  fought.  Why  Ihouid  I  tell  to  Selma's 
king,  how  wrathful  heroes  light?  Fierce  IjUin  fell.  Ycung 
Lamderg  came,  all  pale,  to  the  daughter  of  genc"ous 
Tuathal!  "  What  blood,  my  love?"  fiie  trembling  faid: 
"  what  blood  runs  down  my  warrior's  fide  ?'*  "  It  is  UI- 
lin*s  blood,"  the  chief  replied,  "  thou  fairer  than  fnow ! 
Gelchofla,  let  me  reft  here  a  little  while.'*  The  mighty 
Lamderg  died !  "  And  fleepefh  thou  fo  foon  on  earth,  O 
chief  of  fhady  Tura?"  Three  days  flie  mourned  befide  her 
love.  The  hunters  found  her  cold.  They  raifed  this 
tomb  above  the  three.  Thy  fon,  O  king  of  Morven,  may 
reft  here  with  heroes  !" 

"  And  here  my  fon  fhall  reft,"  faid  Fingal.  "  The 
voice  of  their  fame  is  in  mine  ears.  Fillan  and  Fergus  I 
bring  hither  Orla;  the  pale  youth  of  the  ftream  of  Lota  L 
Not  unequalled  ftiall  Ryno  lie  in  earth,  when  Orla  is  by 
his  fide.  Weep,  ye  daughters  of  Morven !  ye  maids  of 
the  ftreamy  Lota,  weep !  Like  a  tree  they  grew  on  the 
hills.  They  have  fallen  like  the  oak  of  the  defart;  when. 
it  lies  acrofs  a  ftream,  and  withers  in  the  wind,  Ofcar  f 
chief  of  every  youth!  thou  feeft  how  they  have  fallen.  Be 
thou,  like  them,  on  earth  renowned  :  Like  them,  the 
fong  of  bards.  Terrible  was  their  forms  in  battle  ;  but 
calm  was  Ryno  in  the  days  of  peace.  He  was  like  the 
bow  of  the  ftiower  feen  far  diftant  on  the  ftream ;  when 
the  fun  is  fetcing  on  Mora  ;  when  filence  dwells  on  the 
hill  of  deer.  Reft,  youngeft  of  my  fons  !  reit,  O  Ryno, 
on  Lena.  We,  too,  ftiall  be  no  more.  Warriors  one  day 
muft  rail !" 

Such  was  thy  grief,  thou  king  of  fwords,  when  Ryno 
lay  on  earth.    "What  muft  the  grief  of  Oftian  be,  for  thou 

B  b  thyfelf 


194  F    I    N     G    A    L  : 

thyfelf  art  gone !  I  hear  not  thy  diftant  voice  on  Cona. 
My  eyes  perceive  thee  not.  Often  forlorn  and  dark  I  fit 
at  thy  tomb  ;  and  feel  it  with  my  hands.  When  I  think 
I  hear  thy  voice,  it  is  but  the  paffmg  blaft.  Fingal  has 
long  fmce  fallen  alleep,  the  ruler  of  the  war  ! 

Then  Gaui  and  OfTian  fat  with  Swaran,  on  the  foft 
green  banks  of  Lubar.  I  touched  the  harp  to  pleafe  the 
king.  But  gloomy  was  his  brow.  He  rolled  his  red  eyes 
towards  Lena.  The  hero  mourned  his  hofl.  I  raifed  mine 
eyes  to  Cromla's  brow.  I  faw  the  fon  of  generous  Semo. 
Sad  and  flow  he  retired,  from  his  hill,  towards  the  lone- 
ly cave  of  Tura.  He  faw  Fingal  vidorious,  and  mixed 
his  joy  with  grief.  The  fun  is  bright  on  his  armour. 
Connat  llowly  ftrode  behind.  They  funk  behind  the  hill, 
like  two  pillars  of  the  fire  of  night ;  when  winds  purfue 
them  over  the  mountain,  and  the  flaming  heath  refoundsl 
Befide  a  fliream  of  roaring  foam,  his  cave  is  in  a  rock. 
One  tree  bends  above  it.  The  rufhing  winds  echo  againft 
its  fides.  Here  refts  the  chief  of  Erin,  the  fon  of  gene- 
rous Semo.  His  thoughts  are  on  the  battles  he  lofl:  the 
tear  is  on  his  cheek.  He  mourned  the  departure  of  his 
fame,  that  fled  like  the  mill  of  Cona.  O  Bragela,  thou 
art  too  far  remote,  to  cheer  the  foul  of  the  hero.  But  ht 
him  fee  thy  bright  form  in  his  mind  ;  that  his  thoughts 
may  return  to  the  lonely  fun-bearri  of  his  love ! 

Who  comes  with  the  locks  of  age  ?  It  is  the  fon  of 
fongs.  *'  Hail,  Carril  of  other  times  !  Thy  voice  is  like 
the  harp  in  the  halls  of  Tura.  Thy  words  are  pleafant  as 
the  fliower,  which  falls  on  the  funny  field.  Carril  of  the 
times  of  old,  why  corned  thou  from  the  fon  of  the  gene- 
rous Semo  ?" 

*'  OssiAN,  king  of  fwords,"  replied  the  bard,  "  thou 
beft  can  raife  the  fong.  Long  hail  thou  been  known  to 
Carril,  thou  ruler  of  war !  Often  have  I  touched  the  harp 
to  lovely  Everallin.  Thou,  too,  hafl:  often  joined  my 
voice  in  Branno's  hall  of  generous  fliells.  And  often, 
amidfl  our  voices,  was  heard  the  miidefl:  Everallin.  One 
day  fhe  fung  of  Cormac's  fall;  the  youth  who  died  for  her 
love.  I  faw  the  tears  on  her  cheek,  and  on  thine,  thou 
chief  of  men !   Her  foul  was  touched  for  the  unhappy, 

though 


BookV.        An  epic   POEM.  195 

though  ihe  loved  him  not.    How  fair,  among  a  thoufand 
maids,  was  the  daughter  of  generous  Branno  V* 

"  Bring  not,  Carril,"  I  replied,  "  bring  not  her  me- 
mory to  my  mind.  My  foul  muft  melt  at  the  remem.- 
brance.  My  eyes  muft  have  their  tears.  Pale  in  the  earth 
is  fhe,  the  foftly-biufhing  fair  of  my  love  !  But  fit  thou 
on  the  heath,  O  bard,  and  let  us  hear  thy  voice.  It  is 
pleafant  as  the  gale  of  fpring,  that  iighs  on  the  hunter's 
ear;  when  he  awakens  from  dreams  of  joy,  and  has  heard 
the  mufic  of  the  fpirits  of  the  hill  !'* 


FINGAL 


FIN       GAL 


AN     ANCIENT 


EPIC         POEM, 
BOOK    VI. 


ARGUMENT. 

NIGHT  comes  on.  Fingal  gives  a  feaft  to  his  army,  at  which  Swaran  is  prefent.- 
The  king  commands  UHin  his  bard  to  give  the  Jong  of  peace:  a  cufloni  always 
obferved  at  the  end  of  a  war.  Ullin  relates  the  actions  of  Trenmor,  great 
grandfather  to  Fingal,  in  Scandinavia,  and  his  marriage  with  Inibaca,  the  daugh- 
ier  of  a  king  of  Lochlin  who  was  anceftor  to  Swaran  ;  which  confideration,  toge- 
ther with  his  being  brother  to  Agandecca,  with  whom  Fingal  was  in  love  in  his 
youth,  induced  the  king  to  releafe  him,  and  permit  him  to  return,  with  the  re 
mains  of  his  army,  into  Lochlin,  upon  his  promife  of  never  returning  to  Ireland, 
in  a  hoftile  manner.  The  night  is  fpent  in  fettling  Swaran's  departure,  in  fongs 
of  baids,  and  in  a  converfation  in  which  the  flory  of  Grumal  is  introduced  by 
Fingal.  Morning  comes.  Swaran  departs;  Fingal  goes  on  a  hunting  party,  and 
finding  Cuthuliin  in  the  cave  of  Tura,  comforts  him,  and  fets  fail,  the  next  dav, 
for  Scotland  ;  which  concludes  the  poem. 

THE  clouds  of  night  came  rolling  down.  Darknefs 
refts  on  the  fleeps  of  Cromla.  The  flars  of  the 
north  arife  over  the  rolling  of  Erin's  waves  :  they  fhew 
their  heads  of  fire,  through  the  flying  mill  of  heaven. 
A  diilant  wind  roars  in  the  wood.  Silent  and  dark  is  the 
plain  of  death  !  Still  on  the  duiky  Lena  arofe  in  my  ears 
the  voice  of  Carril.  He  fung  of  the  friends  of  our  youth ; 
the  days  of  former  years  !  when  we  met  on  the  banks  of 
Lego  ;  when  we  fent  round  the  joy  of  the  fliell.  Cromla 
anfwered  to  his  voice.  The  ghofts  of  thofe  he  fung  came 
in  their  ruftling  winds.  They  were  feen  to  bend  with  joy, 
towards  the  found  of  their  praife  ! 

Be  thy  foul  bleil,  O  Carril,  in  the  midfl  of  thy  eddying 
winds.     O  that  thou  wouldit  come  to  my  hall,  when  I 

am 


tgS  F    I    N     G    A    L: 

am  alone  by  night  !  And  thou  dofl  come,  my  friend^  I 
hear  often  thy  light  hand  on  my  harp  ;  when  it  hangs  on 
the  diftant  wall,  and  the  feeble  found  touches  my  ear. 
Why  doll  thou  not  fpeak  to  me  in  my  grief,  and  tell 
when  I  Ihall  behold  my  friends  ?  But  thou  paflefl  away 
in  thy  murmuring  blaft  :  the  wind  whiftles  through  the 
grey  hair  of  Offian  ! 

Now,  on  the  fide  of  Mora,  the  heroes  gathered  to  the 
feaft.  A  thoufand  aged  oaks  are  burning  to  the  wind. 
The  ftrength*  of  the  (hells  goes  round.  The  fouls  of  war- 
riors brighten  with  joy.  But  the  king  of  Lochlin  is  lilent. 
Sorrow  reddens  in  the  eyes  of  his  pride.  He  often  turned 
toward  Lena.  He  remembered  that  he  fell.  Fingal  lean- 
ed on  the  fhield  of  his  fathers.  His  grey  locks  llowly 
waved  on  the  wind,  and  glittered  to  the  beam  of  night. 
He  faw  the  grief  of  Swaran,  and  fpoke  to  the  firfl  of  bards. 

"  Raise,  Ullin,  raife  the  fong  of  peace.  O  footh  my 
foul  from  war.  Let  mine  ear  forget,  in  the  found,  the 
difmal  noife  of  arms.  Let  a  hundred  harps  be  near  to 
gladden  the  king  of  Lochlin.  He  muft  depart  from  us 
with  joy.  None  ever  went  fad  from  Fingal.  Ofcar  !  the 
lightning  of  my  fword  is  againft  the  ftrong  in  fight : 
peaceful  it  lies  by  my  fide,  when  warriors  yield  in  war." 

"  Trenmor|,"  faid  the  mouth  of  fongs,  "  lived  in 
the  days  of  other  years.  He  bounded  over  the  waves  of 
the  north  ;  companion  of  the  florm  !  The  high  rocks  of 
the  land  of  Lochlin ;  its  groves  of  murmuring  founds, 
appeared  to  the  hero  through  mifl :  he  bound  his  white- 
bofomed  fails.  Trenmor  purfued  the  boar,  that  roared 
through  the  woods  of  Gormal.  Many  had  fled  from  iis 
prefence  :  but  it  rolled  in  death  on  the  fpear  of  Tremnor. 
Three  chiefs,  who  beheld  the  deed,  told  of  the  mighty 
ftranger.  They  told  that  he  flood,  like  a  pillar  of  fire,  in 
the  bright  arms  of  his  valour.  The  king  of  Lochlin  pre- 
pared 

*  The  ancient  Ccltae  brewed  beer  and  they  were  no  Grangers  to  mead.  Several 
ancient  poems  mention  wax-lights  and  wine  as  common  in  the  halls  of  Fingal.  The 
Caledonians  in  their  frequent  inciuTions  to  the  province  might  become  acquainted 
v/ith  thofe  conveniences  of  life,  and  introduce  them  into  their  own  country,  among 
the  booty  which  they  carried  from  South  Britain. 

+  Trenmor  was  great  grandfather  to  Fingal.  The  (lory  is  introduced  to  facili- 
tate the  dlfmiffion  of  Swaran. 


Book  VI.        An   EPIC   POEM.  199 

pared  the  feaft.  He  called  the  blooming  Trenmor.  Three 
days  he  feafled  at  Gormal's  windy  towers  ;  and  received 
his  choice  in  the  combat.  The  land  of  Lochlin  had  no 
hero,  that  yielded  not  to  Trenmor.  The  fhell  of  joy  went 
round  with  fongs,  in  praife  of  the  king  of  Morven  :  he 
that  came  over  the  waves,  the  firft  of  mighty  men  ! 

"  Now  when  the  fourth  grey  morn  arofe,  the  hero 
launched  his  fhip.  He  walked  along  the  filent  fliore, 
and  called  for  the  rulhing  wind :  For  loud  and  diflant  he 
heard  the  blafl  murmuring  behind  the  groves.  Covered 
over  with  arms  of  fteel,  a  fon  of  the  woody  Gormal  ap- 
peared. Red  was  his  cheek,  and  fair  his  hair ;  his  fkin 
like  the  fnow  of  Morven.  Mild  rolled  his  blue  and  fmil- 
ing  eye,  when  he  fpoke  to  the  king  of  fwords. 

"  Stay,  Trenmor  ;  ftay,  thou  firft  of  men  !  thou  haft 
not  conquered  Lonval's  fon.  My  fword  has  often  met 
the  brave.  The  wife  ftiun  the  ftrength  of  my  bow.'* 
"  Thou  fair-haired  youth,"  Trenmor  replied,  "  I  will  not 
fight  vi^ith  Lonval's  fon.  Thine  arm  is  feeble,  fun-beam 
of  youth.  Retire  to  Gormal's  dark-brown  hinds."  "  But 
I  will  retire,''  replied  the  youth,  *'  with  the  fword  of 
Trenmor ;  and  exult  in  the  found  of  my  fame.  The  virgins 
fliall  gather  with  fmiles  around  him  who  conquered  migh- 
ty Trenmor.  They  fhall  figh  with  the  fighs  of  love,  and 
admire  the  length  of  thy  fpear;  when  I  fliall  carry  it  among 
thoufands ;  when  I  lift  the  glittering  point  to  the  fun." 

"  Thou  (halt  never  carry  my  fpear,"  faid  the  angry 
king  of  Morven.  "  Thy  mother  fhall  fmd  thee  pale  on  the 
fhore;  and  looking  over  the  dark-blue  deep,  fee  the  fails  of 
him  that  flew  her  fon  !"  "  I  will  not  lift  the  fpear,"  replied 
the  youth,  "  my  arm  is  not  ftrong  with  years.  But,  with 
the  feathered  dart,  I  have  learned  to  pierce  a  diftant  foe. 
Throw  down  that  heavy  mail  of  fteel.  Trenmor  is  cover- 
ed from  death.  I,  firft,  will  lay  my  mail  on  earth.  Throw 
now  thy  dart,  thou  king  of  Morven!"  He  faw  the  heaving 
of  her  breaft.  It  was  the  fifter  of  the  king.  She  had  feen 
him  in  the  hall ;  and  loved  his  face  of  youth.  The  fpear 
dropt  from  the  hand  of  Trenmor  :  he  bent  his  red  cheek 
io  the  ground.    She  was  to  him  a  beam  of  light  that 

meets 


200 


F    I    N    G    A    L  : 


meets  the  fons  of  the  cave;  when  they  revifit  the  fields  o£ 
the  fun,  and  bend  their  aching  eyes  ! 

"  Chief  of  the  windy  Morven,'*  begun  the  maid  of 
the  arms  of  fnow.  "  Let  me  reft  in  thy  bounding  ihip, 
far  from  the  love  of  Corlo.  For  he,  like  the  thunder  of 
the  defart,  i«  terrible  to  Inibaca.  He  loves  me  in  the 
i^loom  of  pride.  He  fliakes  ten  thoufand  Ipears  !"  "  Reft 
thou  in  peace,"  faid  the  mighty  Trenmor,  "  reft  behind 
the  fliield  of  my  fathers.  I  will  not  fly  from  the  chief, 
though  he  ftiakes  ten  thoufand  fpears  !'*  Three  days  he 
waited  on  the  fhore.  He  fent  his  horn  abroad.  He  called 
Corlo  to  battle,  from  all  his  echoing  hills.  But  Corlo 
came  not  to  battle.  The  king  of  Lochlin  defcends  from 
his  hall.  He  feafted  on  the  roaring  Ihore.  He  gave  the 
maid  to  Trenmor !" 

"  King  of  Lochlin,"  faid  Fingal,  "  thy  blood  flows  in 
the  veins  of  thy  foe.  Our  fathers  met  in  battle,  becaufe 
they  loved  the  ftrife  of  fpears.  But  often  did  they  feaft 
in  the  hall,  and  fend  round  the  joy  of  the  ftieil.  Let  thy 
face  brighten  with  gladnefs,  and  thine  ear  delight  in  the 
harp.  Dreadful  as  the  ftorm  of  thine  ocean,  thou  haft 
poured  thy  valour  forth  ;  thy  voice  has  been  like  the 
voice  of  thoufands  when  they  engage  in  war.  Raife, 
to-morrow,  raife  thy  white  fails  to  the  wind,  thou  brother 
of  Agandecca  !  Bright  as  the  beam  of  noon,  fhe  comes 
on  my  mournful  foul.  I  have  feen  thy  tears  for  the  fair 
one.  I  fpared  thee  in  the  halls  of  Starno ;  when  my 
fword  was  red  with  flaughter ;  when  my  eye  was  full  of 
tears  for  the  maid.  Or  doft  thou  choofe  the  fight  ?  The 
combat  which  thy  fathers  gave  to  Trenmor  is  thine  !  that 
thou  mayeft  depart  renowned,  like  the  fun  fetting  in  the 
weft !" 

"  King  of  the  race  of  Morven,"  faid  the  chief  of  re- 
founding  Lochlin  !  "  never  will  Swaran  fight  with  thee, 
firft  of  a  thoufand  heroes!  I  have  feen  thee  in  the  halls  of 
Starno  :  few  were  thy  years  beyond  my  own.  When 
ftiall  I,  I  faid  to  my  foul,  lift  the  fpear  like  the  noble  Fin- 
gal ?  We  have  fought  heretofore,  O  warrior,  on  the  fide 
of  the  fliaggy  Malmor;  after  my  waves  had  carried  me  to 
thy  halls,  and  the  feaft  of  a  thoufand  Ihells  was  fpread. 

Let 


Book  VI.        An  EPIC   POEM.  201 

Let  the  bards  fend  his  name  who  overcame  to  future 
years,  fpr  noble  was  the  ftrife  of  Malmor  I  But  many  of 
the  fliips  of  Lochlin  have  lofl  their  youths  on  Lena.  Take 
thefe,  thou  king  of  Morven,  and  be  the  friend  of  Swaran! 
When  thy  fons  lliall  come  to  Gormal,  the  feafl:  of  ihells 
fhall  be  fpread,  and  the  combat  offered  on  the  vale." 

"  Nor  fliip,'*  replied  the  king,  "  fhall  Fingal  take,  nor 
land  of  many  hills.  The  defart  is  enough  to  me,  with 
all  its  deer  and  woods.  Rife  on  thy  waves  agrin,  thou 
noble  friend  of  Agandecca.  Spread  thy  white  fails  to  die 
beam  of  the  morning;  return  to  the  echoing-  hilis  of  Gor- 
mal." "  Bleft  be  thy  foul,  thou  king  of  fiiells,"  f^id 
Swaran  of  the  dark  brown-ihield.  In  peace  thou  art  the 
gale  of  fpring  ;  in  war,  the  mountain  Itorm.  Take  .low 
my  hand  in  friendfhip,  king  of  echoing  Selma  !  Let  thy 
bards  mourn  thofe  who  fell.  Let  Erin  give  the  fons  of 
Lochlin  to  earth.  Raife  high  the  moffy  ftones  of  their 
fame;  that  the  children  of  the  north  hereafter  may  behold 
the  place  where  their  fathers  fought :  the  hunter  may 
fay,  when  he  leans  on  a  mofiy  tomb,  Here  Fingal  and 
Swaran  fought,  the  heroes  of  other  years.  Thus  hereafter 
fhall  he  fay,  and  our  fame  fhall  lafl  for  ever  !" 

"  Swaran,"  faid  the  king  of  hills,  "  to-day  our  fame 
is  greateft.  We  fliall  pafs  away  like  a  dream.  No  found 
will  remain  in  our  fields  of  war.  Our  tombs  will  be  loft 
in  the  heath.  The  hunter  fliall  not  know  the  place  of 
our  reft.  Our  names  may  be  heard  in  fong  :  what 
avails  it,  when  our  ftrength  hath  ceafed  ?  O  Oflian,  Car- 
ril,  and  UUin,  you  know  of  heroes  that  are  no  more. 
Give  us  the  fong  of  other  years.  Let  the  night  pais  away 
on  the  found,  and  morning  return  with  joy." 

We  gave  the  fong  to  the  kings.  An  hundred  harps 
mixed  their  found  with  our  voice.  The  face  of  Swaran 
brightened,  like  the  full  moon  of  heaven;  when  the  clouds 
vanifh  away,  and  leave  her  calm  and  broad  in  the  midft 
of  the  fky ! 

"  Where,  Carril,"  faid  the  great  Fingal,  "  Carril  of 
other  times !  where  is  the  fon  of  Semo  ?  the  king  of  the 
ifle  of  mift?  Has  he  retired,  like  the  meteor  of  death,  to  the 
dreary  cave  of  Tura  ?"  "  Cuthullin,"  feid  Carril  of  other 

C  c  times, 


202 


F    I     N     G     A     L  : 


times,  "  lies  in  the  dreary  cave  of  Tura.  His  hand  is  on 
the  fword  of  his  ftrength  ;  his  thoughts,  on  the  battles  he 
loft.  Mournful  is  the  king  of  fpears ;  till  now  uncon- 
quered  in  war.  He  fends  his  fword  to  reft  on  the  fide  of 
Fingal :  For,  like  the  ftorm  of  the  defart,  thou  haft  fcat- 
tered  all  his  foes.  Take,  O  Fingai,  the  fword  of  the  hero. 
His  fame  is  departed  like  mift,  when  it  flies,  before  the 
ruftling  wind,  a'ong  the  brightening  vale." 

"  No  :"  replied  the  king,  "  Fingal  fliall  never  take  his 
fword.  His  arm  is  mighty  in  war :  his  fame  fliall  never 
fail.  Manv  have  been  overcome  in  battle ;  whofe  renown 
arofe  from  their  fall.  O  Swaran,  king  of  refounding 
woods,  give  all  thy  grief  away.  The  vanquiflied,  if  brave, 
are  reno.vned.  They  are  like  the  fun  in  a  cloud,  when 
he  hides  his  face  in  the  fouth,  but  looks  again  on  the 
hiils  of  grafs  ! 

"  Grumal  was  a  chief  of  Cona.  He  fought  the  battle 
on  every  coaft.  His  foul  rejoiced  in  blood;  his  ear,  in  the 
din  of  arms.  He  poured  his  warriors  on  Craca^  Craca's 
king  met  him  from  his  grove ;  for  then  within  the  circle 
of  Srumo  *,  he  fpoke  to  the  ftone  of  power.  Fierce  was 
the  battle  of  the  heroes,  for  the  maid  of  the  breaft  of  fnow. 
The  fame  of  the  daughter  of  Craca  had  reached  Grumal  at 
the  itrerims  of  Cona:  he  vowed  to  have  the  white-bofom- 
ed  maid,  or  die  on  echoing  Craca.  Three  days  they  ftrove 
together,  and  Grumal  on  the  fourth  was  bound.  Far 
from  his  friends  they  placed  him,  in  the  horrid  circle  of 
Brumo;  where  often,  they  faid,  the  ghofts  of  the  dead 
howled  round  the  ftone  of  their  fear.  But  he  afterwards 
flione,  like  a  pillar  of  the  Ught  of  heaven.  They  fell  by 
his  mighty  hand.     Grumal  had  all  his  fame ! 

"  Raise,  ye  bards  of  other  times,"  continued  the  great 
Fingal,  "  raiie  high  the  praife  of  heroes :  that  my  foul 
may  fettle  on  their  fame ;  that  the  mind  of  Swaran  may 
ceafe  to  be  fad."  They  lay  in  the  heath  of  Mora.  The 
dark  winds  ruftled  over  the  chiefs.  A  hundred  voices, 
at  once,  arofe:  a  hundred  harps  were  ftrung.  They  fung 
of  other  times;  the  mighty  chiefs  of  former  years!  When 
now  fliall  I  hear  the  bard  ?    When  rejoice  at  the  fame  of 

my 

*  This  paflage  alludes  to  the  religion  of  the  king  of  Craca. 


Book  VI.        An   EPIC    POEM.  203 

my  fathers  ?  The  harp  is  not  ftruiig  on  Morven.  The 
voice  of  mufic  afcends  not  on  Cona.  Dead,  with  the 
mighty,  is  the  bard.     Fame  is  in  the  defart  no  more. 

Morning  trembles  with  the  beam  of  the  eaft;  it  glim.-" 
mers  on  Cromla's  fide.  Over  Lena  is  heard  the  horn  of 
Swaran.  The  fons  of  the  ocean  gather  around.  Silent 
and  fad  they  rife  on  the  w^ave.  The  blaft  of  Erin  is  be- 
hind their  fails.  White,  as  the  mill  of  Morven,  they 
float  along  the  fea.  "  Call,"  faid  Fingal,  *'  call  my  dogs, 
the  long-bounding  fons  of  the  chace.  Call  white-breafted 
Bran  and  the  furly  ftrength  of  Luath  !  Fillan,  and  Ryno 
— but  he  is  not  here!  My  fon  refts  on  the  bed  of  death — 
Fillan  and  Fergus  !  blow  the  horn,  that  the  joy  of  the 
chace  may  arife ;  that  the  deer  of  Cromia  may  hear  and 
ilart  at  the  lake  of  roes." 

The  fhriil  found  fpreads  along  the  wood.  The  fons  of 
heathy  Cromia  arife.  A  thoufand  dogs  fiy  off  at  once, 
grey-bounding  through  the  heath.  A  deer  fell  by  every 
dog;  three  by  the  white-breafled  Bran.  He  brought  them, 
in  their  flight,  to  Fingal,  that  the  joy  of  the  king  might 
be  great!  One  deer  fell  at  the  tomb  of  Ryno.  The  grief 
of  Fingal  returned.  He  faw  how  peaceful  lay  the  ftone 
of  him,  who  was  the  firft  at  the  chace  !  "  No  more  fliait 
thou  rife,  O  my  fon,  to  partake  of  the  feaft  of  Cromia. 
Soon  will  thy  tomb  be  hid,  and  the  grafs  grow  rank  on 
thy  grave.  The  fons  of  the  feeble  fliall  pafs  along.  They 
ihall  not  know  where  tke  mighty  lie. 

"  OssiAN  and  Fillan,  fons  of  my  ftrength!  Gaul,  chief 
of  the  blue  fl:eel  of  war  !  let  us  afcend  the  hill  to  the  cave 
of  Tura.  Let  us  find  the  chief  of  the  battles  of  Erin. 
Are  thefe  the  walls  of  Tura  ?  Grey  and  lonely  they  rife 
on  the  heath.  The  chief  of  flielh  is  fad,  and  the  halls  are 
filent  and  lonely.  Come,  let  us  find  Cuthullin,  and  give 
him  all  our  joy.  But  is  that  Cuthullin,  O  Fillan,  or  a 
pillar  of  fmoke  on  the  heath  ?  The  wind  of  Cromia  is  on 
my  eyes.     I  diftinguifli  not  my  friend." 

"  Fingal  !"  replied  the  youth,  "  it  is  the  fon  of  Se- 
mo  !  Gloomy  and  fad  is  the  hero  !  his  hand  is  on  his 
fword.  Hail  to  the  fon  of  battle,  breaker  of  the  fliields?" 
"  Hail  to  thee,"  replied  Cuthullin,  "  hail  to  all  the  fons 

of 


204  F    I    N    G    A    L: 

of  Morven  !  Delightful  is  thy  prefence,  O  Fingal :  it  is 
the  fun  on  Cromla  when  the  hunter  mourns  his  abfence 
for  a  ieaion,  and  fees  him  between  the  clouds.  Th)-  fons 
aie  like  ;!lar>  that  attend  thy  courfe.  They  give  light  in 
the  night.  I^  is  not  thus  thou  haft  feen  me,  O  Fingal, 
returning  from  the  wars  of  thy  land ;  when  the  kings  of 
the  world  *  had  fled,  and  joy  returned  to  the  hill  of 
hinds  !"  "  Many  are  thy  words,  Cuthullin,"  faid  Con- 
Hf  n  I  of  fmall  renown.  "  Thy  words  are  many,  fon  of 
Semo,  but  where  are  thy  deeds  in  arms  ?  Why  did  we 
come,  over  ocean,  to  aid  thy  feeble  fword  ?  Thou  flieft 
to  thy  cave  o^  gnef,  and  Connan  fights  thy  battles.  Re- 
fjgn  to  me  thefe  arms  of  light.  Yield  them,  thou  chief  of 
Erin!"  "  No  hero,"  replied  the  chief,  "  ever  fought  the 
arms  of  Cuthullin ;  and  had  a  thoufand  heroes  fought 
them,  it  were  in  vain,  thou  gloomy  youth !  I  fled  not  to 
the  cave  of  grief,  till  Erin  failed  at  her  ftreams." 

"  Youth  of  the  feeble  arm,"  faid  Fingal,  "  Connan, 
ceafe  thy  words  !  Cuthullin  is  renowned  in  battle  ;  terri- 
ble over  the  world.  Often  have  I  heard  thy  fame,  thou 
flormy  chief  of  Inis-fail.  Spread  now  thy  white  fails  for 
the  ifle  of  mift.  See  Bragela  leaning  on  her  rock.  Her 
tender  eye  is  in  tears  ;  the  winds  lift  her  long  hair  from 
her  heaving  br^aft.  She  liftens  to  the  breeze  of  night, 
to  hear  the  voice  of  thy  rbwers  [j ;  to  hear  the  fong  of  the 
fea !  the  found  of  thy  difiiant  harp  !" 

"  Long  lliall  flie  liften  in  vain.  Cuthullin  lliall  never 
return !  How  can  I  behold  Bragela,  to  raife  the  figh  of 
her  bread  ?  Fingal,  I  was  always  victorious,  in  battles  of 
other  fpears!"  "  And  hereafter  thou  flialt  be  victorious," 
faid  Fingal  of  generous  fhells.  "  The  fame  of  Cuthullin 
fliall  grow,  like  the  branchy  tree  of  Cromla.  Many  bat- 
tles await  thee,  O  chief!    Many  fhall  be  the  wounds  of 

thy 

*  This  is  the  only  pafT.ige  in  the  poem,  wherein  the  wars  of  Fingal  againll  the 
Romans  are  alluded  to:  the  Roman  emperor  is  diftinguifhed  in  old  compofitions  by 
the  title  of  /ling  of  the  vjorld. 

t  Connan  was  of  the  family  of  Morni.  He  is  mentioned  in  feveral  other 
poems,  snd  always  appears  in  the  fame  chara£ler.  The  poet  paffed  him  over  in 
filenre  till  now,  ana  his  beh<\  lOur  heie  deferves  no  better  ufage. 

II  Tne  pr;iHice  oF  finging  when  tlicy  row  is  univerfal  among  the  inhabitants  of 
the  northwefl  coaft  of  Scotland  and  the  ifles.  It  deceives  time,  and  infpirits  the 
rowers. 


Book  VI.        An  EPIC   POEM.  205 

thy  hand !  Biing  hither,  Ofcar,  the  deer !  Prepare  the 
feaft  of  fhells.  Let  our  fouls  rejoice  after  danger,  and  our 
friends  delight  in  our  prefence  !" 

We  fat.  We  feafted.  We  fung.  The  foul  of  Cuthul- 
lin  rofe.  The  ftrength  of  his  arm  returned.  Gladnefs 
brightened  along  his  face.  Ullin  gave  the  fong  ;  Carril 
railed  the  voice.  I  joined  the  bards,  and  fung  of  battles 
of  the  fpear.  Battles !  where  I  often  fought.  Now  I  fight 
no  more !  The  fame  of  my  former  deeds  is  ceafed.  1  lit 
forlorn  at  the  tombs  of  my  friends ! 

Thus  the  night  pafled  away  in  fong.  We  brought 
back  the  morning  with  joy.  Fingal  arofe  on  the  heath, 
and  Ihook  his  glittering  fpear.  He  moved  lirft  toward 
the  plains  of  Lena.     We  followed  in  all  our  arms. 

"  Spread  the  fail,"  faid  the  king,  ''  feize  the  winds  as 
they  pour  from  Lena.'*  We  rofe  on  the  wave  with  fongs. 
We  rufhed,  with  joy,  through  the  foam  of  the  deep. 


ATHMON 


A     T     H     M     O     N: 


P  O  E  M. 


ARGUMENT. 

LATHMON,  a  Britini  prince,  taking  advantage  of  Fingal's  abfence  on  an  expe- 
dition in  Ireland,  made  a  defcent  on  Morven,  and  advanced  within  fight  of  Sel- 
ma,  the  royal  refidence.  Fingal  arrived  in  the  mean  time,  and  Lathmon  re- 
treated to  a  hill,  where  his  army  was  furprized  by  night,  and  himfelf  taken  pri- 
foner  by  OfTian  and  Gaul  the  fon  of  Morni.  The  poem  opens  with  the  firft 
appearance  of  Fingal  on  the  coafl  of  Morven,  and  ends,  it  may  be  fuppofed> 
about  noon  tlie  next  day. 


L     A     T     H     M     O     N  : 


P  O  E  M. 

ELM  A,  thy  halls  are  filent.  There  is  no  found  in 
ihe  woods  of  Morven.  The  wave  tumbles  alone  on. 
the  coaft.  The  filent  beam  of  the  fun  is  on  the  field. 
The  daughters  of  Morven  come  forth,  like  the  bow  of 
the  fhower ;  they  look  towards  green  Erin  for  the  white 
fails  of  the  king.  He  had  promifed  to  return,  but  the 
winds  of  the  north  arofe. 

Who  pours  from  the  eaftern  hiJl,  like  a  ftream  of  dark- 
nefs  ?  It  is  the  hoft  of  Lathmon.  He  has  heard  of  the 
abfence  of  Fingal.  He  trufls  in  the  wind  of  the  north  : 
his  foul  brightens  with  joy.  Why  doft  thou  come,  O 
Lathmon  ?  The  mighty  are  not  in  Selma.  Why  comeft 
thou  with  thy  forward  fpear  ?  will  the  daughters  of  Mor- 
ven fight  ?  But  ftop,  O  mighty  ftream,  in  thy  courfe  I 
Does  not  Lathmon  behold  thefe  fails  ?  Why  dofl  thou 
vanifli,  Lathmon,  like  the  mill  of  the  lake  ?  But  the 
fqually  florm  is  behind  thee  :  Fingal  purfues  thy  fteps  ! 

The  king  of  Morven  had  ftarted  from  fleep,  as  we 
rolled  on  the  dark-blue  wave.  He  flretched  his  hand  to 
his  fpear  ;  his  heroes  rofe  around.  We  knew  that  he  had 
feen  his  fathers  ;  for  they  often  defcended  to  his  dreams, 
when  the  fword  of  the  foe  rofe  over  the  land,  and  the 
battle  darkened  before  us.  "  Whither  hafl  thou  fled,  O 
wind  ?"  faid  the  king  of  Morven.  "  Dofl  thou  ruftle  in 
the  chambers  of  the  fouth  ?  Purfuefl  thou  the  fliower  ia 
other  lands  ?  Why  dofl  thou  not  come  to  my  fails  ?  to 
the  blue  face  of  my  feas  ?  The  foe  is  in  the  land  of  Mor- 
ven, and  the  king  is  abfent  far.  But  let  each  bind  on. 
his  mail,  and  each  affume  his  fliield.  Stretch  every  fpear 
over  the  wave  j  let  every  fword  be  unflieathed.    Lathmon  * 

D  d  is 

*  It  is  faid  by  tradition,  that  it  was  the  intelligence  of  Lathmon's  invafion,  that 
occafioned  Fmgal's  return  from  Ir^aud;  though  Offian,  more  poetically,  afcribea 
the  caufe  of  Fingal's  knowledge  to  his  dre^m. 


210 


L    A    T    H    M    O    N 


is  before  us  with  his  hod  ;  he  that  fled*  from  Fingal  oil 
the  plains  of  Lona.  But  he  returns,  like  a  coUeded 
ftream,  and  his  roar  is  between  our  hills." 

Such  were  the  words  of  Fingal.  We  ruflied  into  Car- 
mona's  bay.  OiTian  afcended  the  hill.  He  thrice  ftruck 
his  bolTy  fhield.  The  rocks  of  Morven  replied  ;  the 
bounding  roe£  came  forth.  The  foe  was  troubled  in  my 
pyefence  :  he  collefted  his  darkened  hoft.  I  flood,  like  a 
cloud,  on  the  hill,  rejoicing  in  the  arms  of  my  youth. 

MoRNif  fat  beneath  a  tree,  at  the  roaring  waters  of 
Strumon[|.  His  locks  of  age  are  grey  :  he  leans  forward 
on  his  ftaff.  Young  Gaul  is  near  the  hero,  hearing  the 
battles  of  his  father.  Often  did  he  rife,  in  the  fire  of  his 
foul,  at  the  mighty  deeds  of  Morni.  The  aged  heard  the 
found  of  OfTian's  Ihield  :  he  knew  the  fign  of  war.  He 
ftarted  at  once  from  his  place.  His  grey  hair  parted  on 
his  back.    He  remembered  the  deeds  of  other  years. 

"  My  fon,"  he  faid  to  the  fair-haired  Gaul,  "  I  hear 
the  found  of  war.  The  king  of  Morven  is  returned,  his 
fignals  are  fpread  on  the  wind.  Go  to  the  halls  of  Stru- 
mon  ;  bring  his  arms  to  Morni.  Bring  the  fhield  of  my 
father's  latter  years,  for  my  arm  begins  to  fail.  Take 
thou  thy  armour,  O  Gaul ;  and  ruili  to  the  firfl  of  thy 
battles.  Let  thine  arm  reach  to  the  renown  of  thy  fathers. 
Be  thy  courfe,  in  the  field,  like  the  eagle's  wing.  Why 
fhouldft  thou  fear  death,  my  fon  ?  The  valiant  fall  with 
fame  ;  their  fiiields  turn  the  dark  ftream  of  danger  away ; 
renown  dwells  on  their  aged  hairs.  Doft  thou  not  fee, 
O  Gaul,  how  the  fteps  of  my  age  are  honoured  ?  Morni 
moves  forth,  and  the  young  meet  him  with  awe,  and 
turn  their  eyes,  with  filent  joy,  on  his  courfe.  But  I  never 
fled  from  danger,  my  fon !  my  fword  lightened  through 
the  darknefs  of  war.  The  ftranger  melted  before  me  j  the 
mighty  were  blafted  in  my  prefence." 

Gaul 

*  He  alludes  to  a  battle  wherein  Fingal  had  defeated  Lathvnon. 

t  Morni  was  chief  of  a  numerous  tribe,  in  the  davs  of  Fingal,  and  his  father 
Comhal.  The  laft  mentioned  hero  was  killed  in  battle  againfl  Morni's  tribe  ;  but 
the  valour  and  conduft  of  Fingal  reduced  them,  at  lafl,  to  obedience.  We  find 
the  two  heroes  perfeftly  reconciled  in  this  poem. 

]1  Stru'-mone,  fir  cam  of  the  hill.  Here  the  proper  name  of  a  rivulet  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Sclma, 


A     P  O  E  M.  21X 

Gaul  brought  the  arms  to  Morni :  the  aged  warrior 
is  covered  with  fleel.  He  took  the  fpear  in  his  hand, 
Tvhich  was  ftained  with  the  blood  of  the  valiant.  He  came 
towards  Fingal ;  his  fon  attended  his  fleps.  The  fon  of 
Comhal  arofe  before  him  with  joy,  when  he  came  in  his 
locks  of  age. 

"  Chief  of  roaring  Strumon !"  faid  the  rifmg  foul  of 
Fingal,  "  do  I  behold  thee  in  arms,  after  thy  ftrength  has 
failed  ?  Often  has  Morni  flione  in  fight,  like  the  beam  of 
the  afcending  fun  ;  when  he  difperfes  the  ftorms  of  the 
hill,  and  brings  peace  to  the  glittering  fields.  But  why 
didft  thou  not  reft  in  thine  age  ?  Thy  renown  is  in  the 
fong.  The  people  behold  thee,  and  blefs  the  departure 
of  mighty  Morni.  Why  didft  thou  not  reft  in  thine  age? 
The  foe  will  vanifli  before  Fingal!" 

"  Son  of  Comhal,"  replied  the  chief,  *'  the  ftrength 
of  Morni's  arm  has  failed.  I  attempt  to  draw  the  fv/ord 
of  my  youth,  but  it  remains  in  its  place.  I  throw  the 
fpear,  but  it  falls  ftiort  of  the  mark.  I  feel  the  weight  of 
my  fhield.  We  decay  like  the  grafs  of  the  hill :  our 
ftrength  returns  no  more.  I  have  a  fon,  O  Fingal :  his 
foul  has  delighted  in  Morni's  deeds ;  but  his  fvv^ord  has 
not  been  lifted  againft  a  foe,  neither  has  his  fame  begun. 
I  come  with  him  to  war  ;  to  direct  his  arm  in  fight.  His 
renown  will  be  a  light  to  my  foul,  in  the  dark  hour  of  my 
departure.  O  that  the  name  of  Morni  were  forgot  among 
the  people  !  that  the  heroes  would  only  fay.  Behold  the 
father  of  Gaul !" 

"  King  of  Strumon,"  Fingal  replied,  "  Gaul  fliall  lift 
the  fword  in  fight.  But  he  ftall  lift  it  before  Fingal;  my 
arm  fliali  defend  his  youth.  But  reft  thou  in  the  halls  of 
Selma  ;  and  hear  of  our  renown.  Bid  the  harp  to  be 
ftfung,  and  the  voice  of  the  bard  to  arife ;  that  thofe 
who  fall  may  rejoice  in  their  fame;  and  the  foul  of  Morni 
brighten  with  joy.  Oftian  !  thou  haft  fought  in  battles  : 
the  blood  of  ftrangers  is  on  thy  fpear:  thy  courfe  be  with 
Gaul,  in  the  ftrife ;  but  depart  not  from  the  fide  of  Fin- 
gal !  left  the  foe  ftiould  find  you  alone,  and  your  fame 
fall  in  my  prefence." 

I  SAW 


212 


L    A    T    H    M    O    N: 


I  SAW*  Gaul  in  his  arms:  my  foul  was  mixed  with  his. 
The  fire  of  the  battle  was  in  his  eyes !  he  looked  to  the  foe 
with  joy.  We  fpoke  the  words  of  friendfiiip  in  fecret : 
the  lip;htnmg  of  our  fwords  poured  together;  for  we  drew 
them  behind  the  wood,  and  tried  the  flrength  of  our  arms 
on  the  empty  air. 

Ntght  came  down  on  Morven.  Fingal  fat  at  the  beam 
of  tne  oak.  Morni  fat  by  his  fide,  with  all  his  grey  wav- 
ing locks.  Their  words  were  of  other  times,  of  the  migh- 
ty deeds  of  their  fathers.  Three  bards,  at  times,  touched 
the  harp  :  U.iu  was  near  with  his  fong.  He  fung  of  the 
mighty  Comhal  ;  but  darknefs  gathered  |  on  Morni's 
brow.  He  rolled  his  red  eye  on  Ullin :  at  once  ceafed 
the  fong  of  the  bard.  Fingal  obferved  the  aged  hero,  and 
he  mildly  fpoke.  "  Chief  of  Strumon,  why  that  dark- 
nefs? Let  the  days  of  other  years  be  forgot.  Our  fathers 
contended  in  war ;  but  we  meet  together  at  the  feaft. 
Our  fwords  are  turned  on  the  foe  of  our  land :  he  melts 
before  us  on  the  field.  Let  the  days  of  our  fathers  be 
forgot,  hero  of  molfy  Strumon  !" 

"  King  of  Morven,"  replied  the  chief,  "  I  remember 
thy  father  with  joy.  He  was  terrible  in  battle:  the  rage 
of  the  chief  was  deadly.  My  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  when 
the  king  of  heroes  fell.  The  valiant  fall,  O  Fingal !  the 
feeble  remain  on  the  hills !  How  many  heroes  have  palTed 
away,  in  the  days  of  Morni !  Yet  I  did  not  fhun  the 
battle;  neither  did  I  fly  from  the  ftrife  of  the  valiant.  Now 
let  the  friends  of  Fingal  refl ;  for  the  night  is  around ; 
that  they  may  rife,  with  flrength,  to  battle  againfl  car- 
torne  Lathmon.  I  hear  the  found  of  his  hofl,  like  thun- 
der moving  on  the  hills.  Ofiian  !  and  fair-haired  Gaul ! 
ye  are  young  and  fwitt  in  the  race ;  obferve  the  foes  of 
FingrJ  from  that  woody  hill.     But  approach  them  not ; 

your 

*  Ofllan  fpeaks.  The  contrad  between  tlie  old  and  young  heroes  is  ftrongly 
■mailvid.  The  circumfiance  of  the  latter's  drawing  their  iwords  is  well  imagined, 
and  aevfcs  with  the  ur.paticnce  of  young  ioldiers,  juft  entered  upon  aftion. 

+  Ui'.in  had  chofen  ill  the  fuhject  of  his  fong  The  darknefs  wliicli  gathered  on 
^ Morni' s  brow,  dia  not  proceed  from  any  dillike  he  had  to  Comhal's  name,  though 
the y  were  foes,  but  fro'n  his  fear  that  the  fong  would  awaken  Fingal  to  a  remem- 
brance of  Mie  i'eucis  which  had  luhfifted  of  old  between  the  families.  Fingal's 
fpccch  on  this  oGcalion  abounds  with  generofity  and  good  fenfe. 


A    P  O  E  M.  21^ 

your  fathers  are  not  near  to  fliield  you.     Let  not  your 
fame  fall  at  once.     The  valour  of  youth  may  fail  i"  • 

We  heard  the  words  of  the  chief  with  joy.  We  moved 
in  the  clang  of  our  arms.  Our  fteps  are  on  the  woody 
hill.  Heaven  burns  with  all  its  liars.  The  meteors  of 
death  fly  over  the  field.  The  diftant  noife  of  the  foe 
reached  our  ears.  It  was  then  Gaul  fpoke,  in  his  valour : 
his  hand  half-unfheathed  the  iword. 

"  Son  of  Fingal,"  he  faid,  "  why  burns  the  foul  of 
Gaul  ?  My  heart  beats  high  ;  my  fteps  are  difordered  ; 
my  hand  trembles  on  my  fword.  ^Vhen  I  look  towards 
the  foe,  my  foul  lightens  before  me.  I  fee  their  fleeping 
hoft.  Tremble  thus  the  fouls  of  the  valiant  in  battles  of 
the  fpear?  How  would  the  foul  of  Morni  rife  if  we  fliould 
rulli  on  the  foe  !  Our  renown  would  grow  in  fong  :  our 
fteps  would  be  ftately  in  the  eyes  of  the  brave," 

"  Son  of  Morni,"  I  rephed,  "  my  foul  delights  in  war. 
I  delight  to  fhine  in  battle  alone,  to  give  my  name  to  the 
bards.  But  what  if  the  foe  fliould  prevail  ?  can  I  behold 
the  eyes  of  the  king?  They  are  terrible  in  his  difpleafure, 
and  like  the  flames  of  death.  But  I  will  not  behold  them 
in  his  wrath  !  OfTian  fhail  prevail  or  fall.  But  lliall  the 
fame  of  the  vanquiibed  rife?  They  pafs  like  a  fhade  away. 
But  the  fame  of  Offian  fhall  rife  i  His  deeds  fliall  be  hke 
his  fathers.  Let  us  rufh  in  our  arms,  fon  of  Morni ;  let 
us  rufh  to  fight.  Gaul !  if  thou  fliouldft  return,  go  to 
Selma's  lofty  hall.  Tell  to  Everallin  that  I  fell  with  fame; 
carry  this  fword  to  Branno's  daughter.  Let  her  give  it  to 
Ofcar,  when  the  years  of  his  youth  fliall  arife." 

"  Son  of  Fingal,"  Gaul  replied  with  a  figh  ;  "  fliall  I 
return  after  Offian  is  low  ?  What  would  my  father  fay  ? 
what  Fingal,  the  king  of  men  ?  The  feeble  would  turn 
their  eyes  and  fay,  "  Behold  Gaul,  who  left  his  friend  in 
his  blood!"  Ye  fliall  not  behold  me,  ye  feeble,  but  in  the 
niidft  of  my  renown.  Oflian  !  I  have  heard  from  my  fa- 
ther the  mighty  deeds  of  heroes;  their  mighty  deeds  when 
alone ;  for  the  foul  increafes  in  danger." 

"  Son  of  Morni,"  I  replied,  and  ftrode  before  him  on 
the  heath,  "  our  fathers  fliall  praife  our  valour  vvhen  they 
mourn  our  fall,     A  beam  of  gladnefs  fliall  rife  on  their 

fouls. 


214 


L    A    T    H    M    O    N: 


fouls,  when  their  eyes  are  full  of  tears.  They  will  fay, 
"  Our  fons  have  not  fallen  unknown :  they  fpread  death 
around  them."  But  why  fhould  we  think  of  the  narrow^ 
houfe  ?  The  fword  defends  the  brave :  but  death  purfues 
the  flight  of  the  feeble ;  their  renown  is  never  heard." 

We  rulhed  forward  through  night  j  we  came  to  the  roar 
of  a  ftream,  which  bent  its  blue  courfe  round  the  foe, 
through  trees  that  echoed  to  its  found.  We  came  to  the 
bank  of  the  ftream,  and  faw  the  fleeping  hoft.  Their  fires 
were  decayed  on  the  plain;  the  lonely  fteps  of  their  fcouts 
were  diftant  far.  I  ftretched  my  fpear  before  me  to  fup- 
port  my  fteps  over  the  ftream.  But  Gaul  took  my  hand, 
and  fpoke  the  words  of  the  brave  :  "  Shall  the  fon  of 
Fingal  rufh  on  the  fleeping  foe?  Shall  he  come  like  a  blaft 
by  night,  when  it  overtures  the  young  trees  in  fecret  ? 
Fingal  did  not  thus  receive  his  fame,  nor  dwells  renown 
on  the  grey  hairs  of  Morni,  for  actions  like  thefe.  Strike, 
Oilian,  ftrike  the  Ihield,  and  let  their  thoufands  rife.  Let 
them  meet  Gaul  in  his  firft  battle,  that  he  may  try  the 
ftrencrth  of  his  arm." 

My  foul  rejoiced  over  the  warrior :  my  burftmg  tears 
came  down.  "  And  the  foe  fliall  meet  th^e,  Gaul !"  I 
faid:  "  the  fame  of  Morni's  fon  fliall  arife.  But  rufli  not 
too  far,  my  hero :  let  the  gleam  of  thy  fteel  be  near  to  Of- 
fian.  Let  our  hands  join  in  flaughter.  Gaul !  doft  thou 
not  behold  that  rock  ?  Its  grey  fide  dimly  gleams  to  the 
ftars.  Should  the  foe  prevail,  let  our  backs  be  towards 
the  rock.  Then  ftiall  they  fear  to  approach  our  fpears  ; 
for  death  is  in  our  hands  !" 

I  STRUCK  thrice  my  echoing  fhield.  The  ftarting  foe 
arofe.  We  ruflied  on  in  the  found  of  our  arms.  Their 
crouded  fteps  fly  over  the  heath.  They  thought  that  the 
mighty  Fingal  was  come.  The  ftrength  of  their  arms 
withered  away.  The  found  of  their  flight  was  like  that 
of  flame,  when  it  rufhes  thro'  the  blafted  groves.  It  was 
then  the  fpear  of  Gaul  flew  in  its  ftrength ;  it  was  then 
his  fword  arofe.  Cremor  fell ;  and  mighty  Leth.  Dun- 
thormo  ftruggled  in  his  blood.  The  fteel  ruflied  through 
Crotho's  fide,  as  bent,  he  rofe  on  his  fpear ;  the  black 
ftream  poured  from  the  wound,  and  hiifed  on  the  half- 

extinguifhed 


A     P  O  E  M.  215 

(£?xtlngulfhed  oak.  Cathmin  faw  the  fteps  of  the  hero  be- 
hind him,  he  afcended  a  blafted  tree;  but  the  fpear  pierced 
him  from  behind.  Shrieking,  panting,  he  fell.  Mofs 
and  withered  branches  purfue  his  fall,  and  drew  the  blue 
arms  of  Gaul. 

Such  were  thy  deeds,  fon  of  Morni,  in  the  firft  of  thy 
battles. — ^Nor  flept  thy  fword  by  thy  fide,  thou  lad  of  Fin- 
gal's  race !  Offian  rullied  forward  in  his  ftrength ;  the 
people  fell  before  him;  as  the  grafs  by  the  ftaff  of  the  boy, 
when  he  whiftles  along  the  field,  and  the  grey  beard  of 
the  thiftle  fails.  But  carelefs  the  youth  moves  on ;  his 
fteps  are  towards  the  defart. 

Grey  morning  rofe  around  us,  the  winding  ftreams 
are  bright  along  the  heath.  The  foe  gathered  on  a  hill; 
and  the  rage  of  Lathmon  rofe.  He  bent  the  red  eye  of 
his  wrath:  he  is  filent  in  his  rifmg  grief.  He  often  ftruck 
his  boffy  fhield  ;  and  his  fteps  are  unequal  on  the  heath. 
I  faw  the  diftant  darknefs  of  the  hero,  and  I  fpoke  to  Mor- 
ni's  fon. 

"  Car-borne  chief  of  Strumo,  doft  thou  behold  the 
foe  ?  They  gather  on  the  hill  in  their  wrath.  Let  our 
fteps  be  towards  the  king  *.  He  ftiall  rife  in  his  ftrength, 
and  the  hoft  of  Lathmon  vanilh.  Our  fame  is  around  us, 
warrior  ;  the  eyes  of  the  agedf  will  rejoice.  But  let  us 
fly,  fon  of  Morni ;  Lathmon  defcend&  the  hill."  "  Then 
let  our  fteps  be  flow,"  replied  the  fair-haired  Gaul,  "  left 
the  foe  fay,  with  a  fmile,  "  Behold  the  warriors  of  night ! 
They  are,  like  ghofts,  terrible  in  darknefs  ;  they  melt 
away  before  the  beam  of  the  eaft."  Offian,  take  the  fhield 
of  Gormar,  who  fell  beneath  thy  fpear.  The  aged  heroes 
will  rejoice,  beholding  the  deeds  of  their  fons." 

Such  were  our  words  on  the  plain,  when  Sulmath  [} 
came  to  car-borne  Lathmon  :  Sulmath  chief  of  Dutha,  at 
the  dark-rolling  ftream  of  Duvranna§.  "  Why  doft  thou 
not  rufh,  fon  of  Nuath,  with  a  thoufand  of  thy  heroes  f 

Why 

■*  Fingal 

+  Fingal  and  Morni. 

II  Sull-mhath,  a  man  of  good  eye-Jigkt , 

%  Dubh-bhranna,  dark  vwunkiin-fneam.  A  river  in  Scotland,  wh,ich  falls  int» 
the  fea  at  Baftff,  {lill  retains  the  name  of  Duvran.  If  that  is  meant  in  this  paffage, 
Lathmon  maft  have  l^een  a  prince  of  the  Pitlifh  nation,  or  thofe  Caledoni'dtis  who 
inhabited  of  old  the  eaftern  coall  of  Scotland. 


2i6  L    A    T    H    M    O    Nr 

Why  dofl:  thou  not  defcend  with  thy  hoft,  before  the  war-* 
riors  fly  ?  Their  blue  arms  are  beaming  to  the  tiling  light, 
and  their  fteps  are  before  us  on  the  heath  !" 

"  Son  of  the  feeble  hand,"  faid  Lathmon,  "  Ihali  my 
hoit  defcend  !  They  are  but  two,  fon  of  Dutha  ;  Ihall  a 
thoufand  lift  their  fteel!  Nuath  would  mourn,  in  his  hall, 
for  the  departure  of  his  fame ;  his  eyes  would  turn  from 
Lathmon,  when  the  tread  of  his  feet  approached.  Go 
thou  to  the  heroes,  chief  of  Dutha.  I  behold  the  Ilately 
fteps  of  Offian.  His  fame  is  worthy  of  my  fteel  !• — let  us 
contend  in  fight." 

The  noble  Sulmath  came.  I  rejoiced  in  the  words  of 
the  king.  I  raifed  the  Ihield  on  my  arm  :  Gaul  placed  in 
my  hand  the  fword  of  Morni.  We  returned  to  the  mur- 
muring ftream  :  Lathmon  came  down  in  his  ftrength. 
His  dark  hoft  rolled,  like  clouds,  behind  him  ;  but  the 
fon  of  Nuath  was  bright  in  his  fteel ! 

"  Son  of  Fingal,"  faid  the  hero,  "  thy  fame  has  grown 
on  our  fall.  How  many  lie  there  of  my  people  by  thy 
hand,  thou  king  of  men  !  Lift  now  thy  fpear  againft 
Lathmon.  Lay  the  fon  of  Nuath  low!  lay  him  low  among^ 
his  warriors,  or  thou  thyfelf  muft  fall  !  It  ftiall  never  be 
told  in  my  halls,  that  my  people  fell  in  my  prefence  ;  that 
they  fell  in  the  prefence  of  Lathmon,  when  his  fword 
refted  by  his  fide  !  The  blue  eyes  of  Cutha  would  roll  ia 
tears ;  her  fteps  be  lonely  in  the  vales  of  Dunlathmon  !" 

"  Neither  ftiall  it  be  told,"  I  replied,  "  that  the  fon 
of  Fingal  fled.  Were  his  fteps  covered  with  darknefs, 
yet  Vv-ould  not  Ofllan  fly  !  His  foul  w^ould  meet  him  and 
lay,  "  Does  the  bard  of  Selma  fear  the  foe  ?"  No  :  he 
does  not  fear  the  foe  :  his  joy  is  in  the  midft  of  battle  !" 

Lathmon  came  on  with  his  fpear.  He  pierced  the 
ftiield  of  Ofllan.  I  felt  the  cold  fteel  by  my  fide.  I  drew 
the  fword  of  Morni.  I  cut  the  fpear  in  twain  :  the  bright 
point  fell  glittering  on  earth.  The  fon  of  Nuath  burnt 
in  his  wrath.  He  lifted  high  his  founding  ftiield.  His 
ilark  eyes  rolled  above  it,  as,  bending  forward,  it  flione 
like  a  gate  of  brafs !  But  Oflian's  fpear  pierced  the  bright- 
nefs  of  its  bofles,  and  funk  in  a  tree  that  rofe  behind. 
The  fliield  hung  on  the  quivering  lance !  but  Lathmon 

ftili 


A     P  O  E  M.  217 

flill  advanced !  Gaul  forefaw  the  fall  of  the  chief.  He 
ftretched  his  buckler  before  my  fword  ;  v/hen  it  defcend* 
ed,  in  a  ftream  of  light,  over  the  king  of  Dunlathmon  ! 

Lathmon  beheld  the  fon  of  Morni.  The  tear  flarted 
from  his  eye.  He  threw  the  fword  of  his  fathers  on  earth, 
and  fpoke  the  words  of  the  brave.  "  Why  (hould  Lath- 
man  fight  againft  the  firft  of  men  ?  Your  fouls  are  beams 
from  heaven  ;  your  fwords,  the  flames  of  death  !  Who 
can  equal  the  renown  of  the  heroes,  whofe  deeds  are  fo 
great  in  youth  ?  O  that  ye  were  in  the  halls  of  Nuath, 
in  the  green  dwelling  of  Lathmon  !  then  would  my  father 
fay,  that  his  fon  did  not  yield  to  the  weak  !  But  who 
comes,  a  mighty  ftream,  along  the  echoing  heath  ?  The 
little  hills  are  troubled  before  him  ;  a  thoufand  ghofts  are 
on  the  beams  of  his  fteel ;  the  ghofts  of  thofe  who  are  to 
fall*  by  the  arm  of  the  king  of  refounding  Morven.  Hap- 
py art  thou,  O  Fingal ;  thy  fons  ftiall  fight  thy  wars.  They 
go  forth  before  thee  j  they  return  with  the  fteps  of  their* 
renown  !" 

Fingal  came,  in  his  mildnefs,  rejoicing  in-fecret  over* 
the  deeds  of  his  fon.  Morni's  face  brightened  with 
gladnefs  ;  his  aged  eyes  look  faintly  through  tears  of  joy. 
We  came  to  the  halls  of  Selma.  We  fat  around  the  feaft: 
of  ftiells.  The  maids  of  fong  came  into  our  prefence,  and 
the  mildly- bluftiing  Everallin  !  Her  hair  fpreads  on  her 
neck  of  fnow  ;  her  eye  rolls  in  fecret  on  Ollian.  She 
touched  the  harp  of  mufic  5  we  bleffed  the  daughter  of 
Branno  ! 

Fingal  rofe  in  his  place,  and  fpoke  to  Lathmon  king 
of  fpears.  The  fword  of  Trenmor  ftiook  by  his  fide,  as 
high  he  raifed  his  mighty  arm.  "  Son  of  Nuath,'*  he 
faid,  "  why  doft  thou  fearch  for  fame  in  Morven  ?  We 
are  not  of  the  race  of  the  feeble  ;  our  fwords  gleam  not 
over  the  weak.  When  did  we  roufe  thee,  O  Lathmon, 
with  the  found  of  war  ?  Fingal  does  not  delight  in  battle, 
though  his  arm  is  ftrong  !  My  renown  grows  on  the  fall 
of  the  haughty.  The  light  of  my  fteel  pours  on  the  proud 
in  arms.    The  battle  comes;  and  the  tombs  of  the  valiant 

E  e  rife  5 

*  It  was  thought,  in  Offian's  time,  that  each  perfon  had  his  attending  fpirit.  The 
traditions  concerning  this  opinion  are  dark  and  unfatisfaftoiy. 


2i8  L    A    T    H    M    O    N. 

rife:  the  tombs  of  my  people  rife,  O  my  fathers!  I  at  laft 
mufl  remain  alone  !  But  I  will  remain  renowned  ;  the  de- 
parture of  my  foul  fhall  be  a  ftream  of  light.  Lathmon! 
retire  to  thy  place!  Turn  thy  battles  to  other  lands!  The 
race  of  Morven  are  renowned  j  their  foes  are  the  fons  of 
the  unhappy  1" 


DAR-THULA: 


o 


ARGUMENT. 

IT  may  not  be  improper  here,  to  give  the  flory  which  is  the  foundation  of  tliis 
poem,  as  it  is  handed  down  by  tradition.  Ufnoth  lord  of  Etha,  which  is  proba- 
bly that  pa't  of  Argyl-fhire  which  is  near  Loch  Eia,  an  arm  of  the  fea  in  Lorn, 
had  three  fons,  Nathos,  Ahhos,  and  Ardan,  by  Sliflama,  the  daughter  of  Semo 
and  fitter  to  the  cclebiated  Cuthullin.  The  three  brothers,  when  very  young, 
were  fent  over  to  Ireland,  by  their  father,  to  learn  the  ufe  of  arms,  under  their 
uncle,  Cuthullin,  who  made  a  great  figure  in  that  kingdom.  They  were  juft 
landed  in  UHler  when  the  news  of  Cuthullin's  death  arrived,  Nathos,  though 
very  young,  took  the  command  of  Cuthulhn's  army,  made  head  againft  Cairbar 
the  ufurper,  and  defeated  him  in  feveral  battles.  Cairbar  at  laft  having  found 
means  to  murder  Cormac  the  lawful  king,  the  army  of  Nathos  (hifted  fides,  and 
be  himfelf  was  obHged  to  return  into  Ulfter,  in  order  to  pafs  over  into  Scotland. 
J)ar-thula,  the  daughter  of  CoUa,  with  whom  Cairbar  was  in  love,  refidcd, 
at  that  time,  in  Selama,  a  caflle  in  Ulfler :  (he  faw,  fell  in  love,  and  fled  with 
Nathos ;  but  a  ftorm  rifing  at  fea,  they  were  unfortunately  driven  back  on  that 
part  of  the  coaft  of  Ulfter,  where  Cairbar  was  encamped  with  his  army.  The 
three  brothers,  after  having  defended  themfelves,  for  fome  time,  with  great 
bravery,  were  ovei powered  and  flain,  and  the  tinfortunate  Dar-thula  killed  hcr- 
felf  uDon  the  body  of  her  beloved  Nathos. 

The  poem  opens,  on  the  ni,i;ht  preceding  the  death  of  the  fons  of  Ufnothi 
and  brings  in,  by  way  of  epifode,  what  paifed  before.  It  relates  the  death  ef 
Dar-thala  differently  from  the  common  tradition ;  this  account  is  the  moft  pro- 
bable, as  fuicide  feems  to  have  been  unknown  in  thofe  early  times;  for  bo 
traces  of  it  are  found  in  the  old  poetry. 


DAR-THULA: 


POEM. 

DAUGHTER  of  heaven,  fair  art  thou!  the  filence 
of  thy  face  is  pleafant !  Thou  corned  forth  in  love- 
linefs.  The  ftars  attend  thy  blue  courfe  in  the  eafl.  The 
clouds  rejoice  in  thy  prefence,  O  moon :  they  brighten 
their  dark-brown  fides.  Who  is  like  thee  in  heaven,  light 
of  the  filent  night?  The  ftars  are  afhamed  in  thy  prefence. 
They  turn  away  their  fparkling  eyes.  Whither  doft  thou 
retire  from,  thy  courfe,  when  the  darkness  of  thy  counte- 
nance grows  ?  Haft  thou  thy  hall,  like  Offian  ?  Dwelleft 
thou  in  the  fliadow  of  grief?  Have  thy  fifters  fallen  from 
heaven  ?  Are  they  who  rejoiced  with  thee,  at  night,  no 
more  ?  Yes  !  they  have  fallen,  fair  light !  and  thou  doft 
often  retire  to  mourn.  But  thou  thyfelf  flialt  fail,  one 
night;  and  leave  thy  blue  path  in  heaven.  The  ftars  will 
then  lift  up  their  heads  :  they,  who  were  afliamed  in  thy 
prefence,  will  rejoice.  Thou  art  now  clothed  with  thy 
brightnefs.  Look  from  thy  gates  in  the  fky.  Burft  the 
cloud,  O  wind,  that  the  daughter  of  night  may  look  forth; 
that  the  ftiaggy  mountains  may  brighten,  and  the  ocean 
roll  its  white  waves,  in  light ! 

Nathos  *  is  on  the  deep,  and  Althos,  that  beam  of 
youth.  Ardan  is  near  his  brothers.  They  move  in  the 
gloom  of  their  courfe  ;  the  fons  of  Ufnoth  move,  in  dark- 
nefs,  from  the  wrath  of  Cairbar  |  of  Erin.  Who  is  that, 
dim,  by  their  fide  ?  The  night  has  covered  her  beauty ! 
Her  hair  fighs  in  ocean*s  wind.  Her  robe  ftreams  in 
dufky  wreaths.     She  is  like  the  fair  fpirit  of  heaven,  in 

the 

*  Nathos  fignifies  youthful,  Althos,  exquifite  beauty,  Ardan,  pride. 

+  Caiibar,  who  murdered  Cormac  kin^  oF  Ireland,  and  ufujped  the  throne.  He 
was  afterwards  killed  by  Ofcar  the  fon  of  Oflian  in  a  fingle  combat.  The  poet, 
upon  other  occafions,  gives  him  the  epithet  of  led-haired. 


;22 


D   A   R-T   H    U   L    A: 


the  midfl  of  his  Ihadowy  mift.  Who  is  it  but  Dar-thula*, 
the  firfl  of  Erin's  maids  ?  She  has  fled  from  the  love  of 
Cairbar,  with  blue-fliielded  Nathos.  But  the  winds  de- 
ceive thee,  O  Dar-thula.  They  deny  the  woody  Etha 
to  thy  fails.  Thefe  are  not  the  mountains  of  Nathos;  nor 
is  that  the  roar  of  his  climbing  waves.  The  halls  of  Cair- 
bar are  near:  the  towers  of  the  foe  lift  their  heads  !  Erin 
flretches  its  green  head  into  the  fea.  Tura's  bay  receives 
the  fhip.  Where  have  ye  been,  ye  fouthern  winds!  when 
the  fons  of  my  love  were  deceived  ?  But  ye  have  been 
fporting  on  plains,  purfuing  the  thiftle's  beard.  O  that 
ye  had  been  ruflling  in  the  fails  of  Nathos,  till  the  hills 
of  Etha  arofe !  till  they  arofe  in  their  clouds,  and  faw 
their  returning  chief!  Long  hail  thou  been  abfent,  Na- 
thos !    The  day  of  thy  return  is  pad: ! 

But  the  land  of  ftrangers  faw  thee,  lovely :  thou  wafl 
lovely  in  the  eyes  of  Dar-thula.  Thy  face  was  like  the 
light  of  the  morning  ;  thy  hair,  like  the  raven's  wing. 
Thy  foul  was  generous  and  mild,  like  the  hour  of  the  fet- 
ting  fun.  Thy  words  were  the  gale  of  the  reeds  ;  the 
gliding  flream  of  Loral  But  when  the  rage  of  battle  rofe, 
thou  waft  a  fea  in  a  ftorm.  The  clang  of  thy  arms  was 
terrible:  the  hoft  vanilhed  at  the  found  of  thy  courfe.  It 
was  then  Dar-thula  beheld  thee,  from  the  top  of  her  mof- 
fy  tower ;  from  the  tower  of  Selama  |,  where  her  fathers 
dwelt. 

"  Lovely  art  thou,  O  ftranger  !"  fhe  faid,  "  for  her 
trembling  foul  arofe.  Fair  art  thou  in  thy  battles,  friend  of 
the  fallen  Cormac  j] !  Why  doft  thou  rufh  on,  in  thy  valour, 
youth  of  the  ruddy  look  ?  Few  are  thy  hands,  in  fight, 
againft  the  dark-browed  Cairbar  !  O  that  I  might  be 
freed  from  his  love§!  that  I  might  rejoice  in  the  prefence 

of 

*  Dar-thula,  or  Dart-'huile,  a  zvmnan  with  jine  eyes.  She  was  the  mofl  famous 
beauty  of  iuitiquity.  To  this  day,  when  a  woman  is  praifed  for  her  beauty,  the 
common  phral'c  is,  ihatJJic  is  as  lovely  as  Dar-thula, 

\  The  word  fignifies  either  beautiful  to  behold,  or  a  place  zvitk  a  plcafant  or  zoicb-: 
profpcB.  In  early  times,  they  built  their  houfes  upon  eminences,  to  commanc]  a 
view  of  the  country,  and  to  prevent  their  being  furprized:  many  of  them,  on  that 
account,  were  called  Selama.  The  famous  Selma  of  Fingal  is  derived  from  the 
fame  root. 

I  Cormac  the  young  king  of  Ireland,  who  was  privately  murdered  \rt  Cairbar^ 

4  That  is,  of  the  love  of  Cairbar. 


A     POEM.  223 

ofNathos!  Blefl  are  the  rocks  of  Etha!  they  will  behold 
his  fteps  at  the  chace  !  they  will  fee  his  white  bofom, 
when  the  winds  lift  his  flowing  hair  !"  Such  were  thy 
words,  Dar-thula,  in  Selama's  moify  towers.  But,  now, 
the  night  is  around  thee.  The  winds  have  deceived 
thy  fails :  the  winds  have  deceived  thy  fails,  Dar-thula ! 
Their  bluftering  found  is  high.  Ceafe  a  little  while,  O 
north  wind.  Let  me  hear  the  voice  of  the  lovely.  Thy 
voice  is  lovely,  Dar-thula,  between  the  ruftling  blafts ! 

"  Are  thefe  the  rocks  of  Nathos  ?'*  Ihe  faid  :  "  This 
the  roar  of  his  mountain-ftreams  ?  Comes  that  beam  of 
light  from  Ufnoth's  nightly  hall?  The  mift  fpreads  a- 
round  ;  the  beam  is  feeble  and  diflant  far.  But  the  light 
of  Dar-thula's  foul  dwells  in  the  chief  of  Etha !  Son  of 
the  generous  Ufnoth,  why  that  broken  figh  !  Are  we  in 
the  land  of  (Irangers,  chief  of  echoing  Etha !" 

"  These  are  not  the  rocks  of  Nathos,"  he  replied, 
"  nor  this  the  roar  of  his  dreams.  No  light  comes  from 
Etha's  halls,  for  they  are  diftant  far.  We  are  in  the  land 
of  flrangers,  in  the  land  of  cruel  Cairbar.  The  winds 
have  deceived  us,  Dar-thula.  Erin  lifts  here  her  hills. 
Go  towards  the  north,  Althos:  be  thy  fteps,  Ardan,  along 
the  coaft ;  that  the  foe  may  not  come  in  darknefs,  and  our 
hopes  of  Etha  fail.  I  will  go  towards  that  molfy  tower, 
to  fee  who  dwells  about  the  beam.  Reft,  Dar-thula,  on 
the  ftiore !  reft  in  peace,  thou  lovely  light !  the  fword  of 
Nathos  is  around  thee,  like  the  lightning  of  heaven  1" 

He  went.  She  fat  alone ;  ihe  heard  the  rolling  of  the 
wave.  The  big  tear  is  in  her  eye.  She  looks  for  return- 
ing Nathos.  Her  foul  trembles  at  the  blaft.  She  turns 
her  ear  towards  the  tread  of  his  feet.  The  tread  of  his 
feet  is  not  heard.  "  Where  art  thou,  fon  of  my  love!  The 
roar  of  the  blaft  is  around  me.  Dark  is  the  cloudy  night. 
But  Nathos  does  not  return.  "What  detains  thee,  chief 
of  Etha  ?  Have  the  foes  met  the  hero  in  the  ftrife  of  the 
night?" 

He  returned,  but  his  face  was  dark.    He  had  feen  his 
departed  friend  !    It  was  the  wall  of  Tura.    The  ghoft  oT 
Cuthullin  ftalked  there  alone  :  The  fighing  of  his  breaft 
was  frequent.     The  decayed  flame  of  his  eyes  was  terri- 
ble' 


S24  DAR'THULA: 

ble !  His  fpear  was  a  column  of  mift.  The  ftars  looked 
dim  through  his  form.  His  voice  was  like  hollow  wind 
in  a  cave ;  his  eye,  a  light  feen  afar.  He  told  the  tale  of 
grief.  The  foul  of  Nathos  was  fad,  like  the  fun  in  the 
day  of  mift,  when  his  face  is  watry  and  dim. 

"  Why  art  thou  fad,  O  Nathos  ?"  faid  the  lovely 
daughter  of  Colla.  "  Thou  art  a  pillar  of  light  to  Dar- 
thula.  The  joy  of  her  eyes  is  in  Etha's  chief.  Where  is 
my  friend,  but  Nathos  ?  My  father,  my  brother  is  fallen! 
Silence  dwells  on  Selama.  Sadnefs  fpreads  on  the  blue 
dreams  of  my  land.  My  friends  have  fallen,  with  Cor- 
mac.  The  mighty  were  flain  in  the  battles  of  Erin.  Hear, 
fon  of  Umoth  !    hear,  O  Nathos,  my  tale  of  grief. 

"  Evening  darkened  on  the  plain.  The  blue  ftreams 
failed  before  mine  eyes.  The  unfrequent  blaft  came  rufl- 
ling,  in  the  tops  of  Selama's  groves.  My  feat  was  beneath 
a  tree,  on  the  walls  of  my  fathers.  Truthil  paft  before 
my  foul ;  the  brother  of  my  love :  he  that  was  abfent  in 
battle,  againfl  the  haughty  Cairbar!  Bending  on  his  fpear, 
the  grey-haired  Colla  came.  His  downcaft  face  is  dark, 
and  forrow  dwells  in  his  foul.  His  fword  is  on  the  fide 
of  the  hero  ;  the  helmet  of  his  fathers  on  his  head.  The 
battle  grows  in  his  bread.    He  drives  to  hide  the  tear. 

"  Dar-thula,  my  daughter,"  he  faid,  "  thou  art  the 
lad  of  Collars  race !  Truthil  is  fallen  in  battle.  The  chief 
of  Seldma  is  no  more  !  Cairbar  comes,  with  his  thou- 
fands,  towards  Selama's  walls.  Colla  will  meet  his  pride,- 
and  revenge  his  fon.  But  where  diall  I  find  thy  fafety, 
Dar-thula  with  the  dark-brown  hair  !  thou  art  lovely  as 
the  fun-beam  of  heaven,  and  thy  friends  are  low !  "  Is 
the  fon  of  battle  fallen  ?"  I  faid,  with  a  burding  figh : 
"  Ceafed  the  generous  foul  of  Truthil  to  lighten  through 
the  field  ?  My  fafety,  Colla,  is  in  that  bow.  I  have  learned 
to  pierce  the  deer.  Is  not  Cairbar  like  the  hart  of  the 
defart,  fiither  of  fallen  Truthil  ?'* 

"  The  face  of  age  brightened  with  joy.  The  crouded 
tears  of  his  eyes  poured  down.  The  lips  of  Colla  trem- 
bled. His  grey  beard  whidled  in  the  blad.  "  Thou  art 
the  fider  of  Truthil,"  he  faid  ;  "  thou  burned  in  the  fire: 
of-  his  foul.    Take,  Dar-thula,  take  that  fpear,  that  brazen 

(hield. 


A     P  O  E  M.  225 

fhield,  that  bu'iiifhed  helm  :  they  are  the  fpoils  of  a  war- 
rior, a  fon  of  early  youth  !  When  the  light  rifes  on  Selama, 
we  go  to  meet  the  car-borne  Cairbar.  But  keep  thou  near 
the  arm  of  Colla,  beneath  the  fhadow  of  my  fliield.  Thy 
father,  Dar-thula,  could  once  defend  thee;  but  age  is  trem- 
bling on  his  hand.  The  ftrength  of  his  arm  has  failed. 
His  foul  is  darkened  with  grief.'* 

"  We  palTed  the  night  in  forrow.  The  light  of  morning 
rofe.  I  ftione  in  the  arms  of  battle.  The  grey-haired  hero 
moved  before.  The  fons  of  Selama  convened,  around  the 
founding  fliield  of  Colla.  But  few  were  they  in  the  plain, 
and  their  locks  were  grey.  The  youths  had  fallen  vvith 
Truthil,  in  the  battle  of  car-borne  Cormac.  "  Friends  of 
my  youth  !'*  faid  Colla,  "  it  was  not  thus  you  have  feen 
me  in  arms.  It  was  not  thus  I  ftrode  to  battle,  when  the 
great  Confadan  fell.  But  ye  are  laden  with  grief.  The 
darknefs  of  age  comes,  like  the  mifl  of  the  defart.  My 
fhield  is  worn  with  years  !  my  fword  is  fixed  *  in  its  place ! 
I  faid  to  my  foul,  thy  evening  (hall  be  calm :  thy  depar- 
ture, like  a  fading  light.  But  the  ftorm  has  returned.  I 
bend  like  an  aged  oak.  My  boughs  are  fallen  on  Selama. 
I  tremble  in  my  place.  Where  art  thou,  with  thy  fallen 
heroes,  O  my  beloved  Truthil !  Thou  anfwereft  not  from 
thy  rufhing  blaft.  The  foul  of  thy  father  is  fad.  But  I 
will  be  fad  no  more :  Cairbar  or  Colla  muft  fall !  I  feel 
the  returning  ftrength  of  my  arm.  My  heart  leaps  at  the 
found  of  war.'* 

"  The  hero  drew  his  fword.  The  gleaming  blades  of  his 
people  rofe.  They  moved  along  the  plain.  Their  grey 
hair  ftreamed  in  the  wind.  Cairbar  fat  at  the  feaft,  in 
the  filent  plain  of  Lonaf.  He  faw  the  coming  of  the 
heroes.  He  called  his  chiefs  to  war.  Why  ||  fhould  I 
tell  to  Nathos,  how  the  ftrife  of  battle  grew  ?    I  have 

F  f  feen 

*  It  was  the  cuflom  of  ancient  times,  that  every  warrior,  at  a  certain  age,  or  when 
he  became  unfit  for  the  field,  fixed  his  arms  in  the  great  hall,  where  the  tribe  feaft- 
ed,  upon  joyful  occafions.  He  was  afterwards  never  to  appear  in  battle  ;  and  this 
ftage  of  life  was  called  the  time  of  Jixing  of  the  arms. 

t  Lena,  a  marfliy  plain.  Cairbar  had  juft  provided  an  entertainment  for  his 
army,  upon  the  defeat  of  Truthil  the  fon  of  Colla,  and  the  reft  of  the  party  of 
Cormac,  when  Colla  and  his  aged  warriors  arrived  to  give  him  battle, 

11  The  poet,  by  an  artifice,  avoids  the  defcription  of  the  battle  of  Lona,  as  it 
would  be  improper  in  the  mouth  of  a  woman,  and  could  have  nothing  new,  after 

the 


226  DAR-THULA: 

feen  thee,  In  the  midft  of  thoufands,  like  the  beam  of 
heaven's  fire :  it  is  beautiful,  but  terrible ;  the  people 
fall  in  its  dreadful  courfe.  The  fpear  of  Colla  flew. 
He  remembered  the  battles  of  his  youth.  An  arrow 
came  with  its  found :  it  pierced  the  hero's  fide.  He 
fell  on  his  echoing  ihield.  My  foul  ftarted  with  fear.  I 
ftretched  my  buckler  over  him ;  but  my  heaving  bread 
was  feen  !  Cairbar  came,  with  his  fpear.  He  beheld  Se- 
iama's  maid.  Joy  rofe  on  his  dark-brown  face.  He  flayed 
the  lifted  fleel.  He  raifed  the  tomb  of  Colla.  He  brought 
me  weeping  to  Selama.  He  fpoke  the  words  of  love,  but 
my  foul  was  fad.  I  faw  the  fhields  of  my  fathers ;  the  fword 
of  car-borne  Truthil.  I  faw  the  arms  of  the  dead  ;  the  tear 
was  on  my  cheek!  Then  thou  didft  come,  O  Nathos!  and 
gloomy  Cairbar  fled.  He  fled,  like  the  ghofl:  of  the  defart 
before  the  morning's  beam.  His  hoft  was  not  near :  and 
feeble  was  his  arm  againfl  thy  fleel !  Why  art  thou  fad, 
O  Nathos  ?"    faid  the  lovely  daughter  of  Colla. 

"  I  HAVE  met,"  replied  the  hero,  "  the  battle  in  my 
youth.  My  arm  could  not  lift  the  fpear,  when  danger 
firfl  arofe.  My  foul  brightened  in  the  prefence  of  war, 
as  the  green  narrow  vale,  when  the  fun  pours  his  flreamy 
beams,  before  he  hides  his  head  in  a  ftorm.  The  lonely 
traveller  feels  a  mournful  joy.  He  fees  the  darknefs,  that 
flowiy  comes.  My  foul  brightened  in  danger  before  I  faw 
Selama's  fair ;  before  I  faw  thee,  like  a  ftar,  that  fhines 
on  the  hill,  at  night :  the  cloud  advances,  and  threatens 
the  lovely  light !  We  are  in  the  land  of  foes.  The  winds 
have  deceived  us,  Dar-thula  !  the  flrength  of  our  friends 
is  not  near,  nor  the  mountains  of  Etha.  Where  fhall  I 
find  thy  peace,  daughter  of  mighty  Colla  !  The  brothers 
of  Nathos  are  brave;  and  his  own  fword  has  fhone  in 
fight.  But  what  are  the  fons  of  Ufnoth  to  the  hofl  of 
dark-browed  Cairbar  !  O  that  the  winds  had  brought  thy 
fails,  Ofcar  *  king  of  men  !  Thou  didft  promife  to  come 
to  the  battles  of  fallen  Cormac!  Then  would  my  hand 

be 

tlie  numerous  defciiptions,  of  that  kind,  in  the  reft  of  the  poems.  He,  at  the  fame 
timt*,  oiv's  an  opportunity  to  Dar-thula  to  pafs  a  fine  compliment  on  her  lover, 
*  Ofcar,  the  fon  of  Offian,  had  lono;  refoived  en  an  expedition,  into  Ireland, 
againfl  Caiibar,  who  had  afTafTinated  his  friend  Cathol,  the  fon  of  Moran,  an  Inlli- 
man  of  noble  extraclion,  and  in  the  interefl  of  the  family  of  Corinac, 


A    P  O  E  M.  227 

be  (Irong,  as  the  flaming  arm  of  death.  Cairbar  v/ould 
tremble  in  his  halls,  and  peace  dwell  round  the  lovely 
Dar-thula.  But  why  doll  thou  fall,  my  foul  ?  The  fons 
of  Ufnoth  may  prevail !" 

"  And  they  will  prevail,  O  Nathos !"  faid  the  rifmg 
foul  of  the  maid.  "  Never  fhall  Dar-thula  behold  the 
halls  of  gloomy  Cairbar.  Give  me  thofe  arms  of  brafs, 
that  glitter  to  the  palling  meteor.  I  fee  them  dimly  in 
the  dark-bofomed  ihip.  Dar-thula  will  enter  the  battle 
of  fteel.  Ghoil  of  the  noble  Colla  !  do  I  behold  thee  on 
that  cloud  ?  Who  is  that,  dim,  befide  thee  ?  Is  it  the  car- 
borne  Truthil  ?  Shall  I  behold  the  halls  of  him  that  flew 
Selama's  chief  ?  No  :  I  will  not  behold  them,  fpirits  of 
my  love  !" 

Joy  rofe  in  the  face  of  Nathos,  when  he  heard  the 
white-bofomed  maid.  "  Daughter  of  Selama!  thou  fliinelt 
along  my  foul.  Come,  with  thy  thoufands,  Cairbar  !  the 
fl:rength  of  Nathos  is  returned !  Thou,  O  aged  Ufnoth, 
flialt  not  hear  that  thy  fon  has  fled.  I  remember  thy  words 
on  Etha,  when  my  fails  began  to  rife ;  when  I  fpread 
them  towards  Erin,  towards  the  mofly  walls  of  Tura ! 
"  Tkou  goeft,'*  he  faid,  "  O  Nathos,  to  the  king  of 
fliields !  Thou  goefl  to  CuthulHn,  chief  of  men,  who  ne- 
ver fled  from  danger.  Let  not  thy  arm  be  feeble:  neither 
be  thy  thoughts  of  flight ;  left  the  fon  of  Semo  flioukl 
fay,  that  Etha's  race  are  weak.  His  words  may  come  to 
Ufnoth,  and  fadden  his  foul  in  the  hall."  The  tear  was 
on  my  father's  cheek.    He  gave  this  Ihining  fword ! 

"  I  CAME  to  Tura's  bay  :  but  the  halls  of  Tura  were 
filent.  I  looked  around,  and  there  was  none  to  tell  of 
the  fon  of  generous  Semo.  I  went  to  the  hall  of  flieils, 
where  the  arms  of  his  fathers  hung.  But  the  arms  were 
gone,  and  aged  Lamhor  *  fat  in  tears.  "  Whence  are  the 
arms  of  fteel,'*  faid  the  riling  Lamhor  ?  "  The  light  of 
the  fpear  has  long  been  abfent  from  Tura's  dulky  walls. 
Come  ye  from  the  rolling  fea  ?  or  from  Temora's  1 
mournful  halls  ?" 

"We 

*  Lamh-mhor,  mighty  hand, 

t  Temora  was  the  refidence  of  the  fuprenie  kings  of  Ireland.  It  is  here  called 
mournful,  on  account  of  the  death  of  Cormac,  who  was  murdered  there  by  Cajj- 
bar,  who  ufurped  his  throne. 


228  D  A  R-T  H  U  L  A: 

<■'  We  come  from  the  fea,"  I  faid,  "  from  Ufnoth^s 
riimg  towers.  We  are  the  fons  of  Slis-samaj|,  the  daugh- 
ter of  car-borne  Semo.  Where  is  Tura's  chief,  fon  of  the 
filent  hail  ?  But  why  fhould  Nathos  alk  ?  for  I  behold 
thy  tears.  How  did  the  mighty  fall,  fon  of  the  lonely 
Tura?"  "  He  fell  not,"  Lamhor  repHed,  "  like  the  filent 
liar  of  night,  when  it  flies  through  darknefs,  and  is  no 
more.  But  he  was  like  a  meteor  that  fhoots  into  a  diftant 
land.  Death  attends  its  dreary  courfe.  Itfelf  is  the  fign 
of  wars.  Mournful  are  the  banks  of  Lego;  and  the  roar 
of  ftreamy  Lara !  There  the  hero  fell,  fon  of  the  noble 
Ufnoth."  "  The  hero  fell  in  the  midft  of  flaughter,"  I 
faid,  with  a  burfting  figh.  "  His  hand  was  ftrong  in  war. 
Death  dimly  fat  behind  his  fword." 

"  We  came  to  Lego's  founding  banks.  We  found  hii 
rlfmg  tomb.  His  friends  in  battle  are  there:  his  bards  of 
many  fongs.  Three  days  we  mourned  over  the  hero:  on 
the  fourth,  I  ftruck  the  ihield  of  Caithbat.  The  heroes 
gathered  around  with  joy,  and  Ihook  their  beamy  fpears. 
Corlath  was  near  with  his  hoft,  the  friend  of  car-borne 
Cairbar.  We  came  like  a  ftream  by  night.  His  heroes 
fell  before  us.  When  the  people  of  the  valley  rofe,  they 
faw  their  blood  with  morning's  light.  But  we  rolled  away, 
like  wreathes  of  mill,  to  Cormac's  echoing  hall.  Our 
fwords  rofe  to  defend  the  king.  But  Temora's  halls  were 
empty.  Cormac  had  fallen  in  his  youth.  The  king  of 
Erin  was  no  more  ! 

"  Sadness  feized  the  fons  of  Erin.  They  flowly,  gloo- 
mily, retired  :  like  clouds  that,  long  having  threatened 
rain,  vaniih  behind  the  hills.  The  fons  of  Ufnoth  moved, 
in  their  grief,  towards  Tura's  founding  bay.  We  paflTed 
by  Selama.  Cairbar  retired,  like  Lano's  mift,  when  dri- 
ven before  the  winds.  It  was  then  I  beheld  thee,  O  Dar- 
thula,  Hke  the  light  of  Etha's  fun.  "  Lovely  is  that 
beam !"  I  faid.  The  crowded  figh  of  my  bofom  rofe. 
Thou  cameft  in  thy  beauty,  Dar-thula,  to  Etha's  mourn- 
ful chief.  But  the  winds  have  deceived  us,  daughter  of 
Colla,  and  the  foe  is  near  !" 

"  Yes  ! 

IJ  Slis-feamha,  fcft  bofom.     She  was  the  wife  of  Ufnoth,  and  daughter  of  Semo, 
the  chief  of  tlie  i/lc  ofmifi. 


A    P  O  E  M.  227 

"  Yes!  the  foe  is  near,"  faid  the  rufhing  flrength  of  AI- 
thos  *.  "  I  heard  their  clanging  arms  on  the  coafl.  I 
faw  the  dark  wreathes  of  Erin's  flandard.  Diflind  is  the 
voice  of  Cairbar  f ;  loud  as  Cromla's  falling  ftream.  He 
had  feen  the  dark  fhip  on  the  fea,  before  the  dufky  night 
came  down.  His  people  watch  on  Lena's  plain.  They 
lift  ten  thoufand  fwords.'*  '^  And  let  them  lift  ten  thou- 
fand  fwords,"  faid  Nathos,  with  a  fmile,,  "  The  fons  of 
car-borne  Ufnoth  will  never  tremble  in  danger!  Why 
dofl  thou  roll  with  all  thy  foam^thou  roaring  fea  of  Erin? 
Why  do  ye  ruflle,  on  your  dark  wings,  ye  whiflling 
forms  of  the  fky  ?  Do  ye  think,  ye  ftorms,  that  ye  keep 
Nathos  on  the  coafl  ?  No :  his  foul  detains  him,  children 
of  the  night !  Althos!  bring  my  father's  arms  :  thou  feeft 
them  beaming  to  the  liars.  Bring  the  fpear  of  Semo  ||. 
It  (lands  in  the  dark-bofomed  Ihip  !" 

He  brought  the  arms.  Nathos  covered  his  limbs,  in 
all  their  fhining  fleel.  The  ftride  of  the  chief  is  lovely. 
The  joy  of  his  eyes  was  terrible.  He  looks  towards  the 
coming  of  Cairbar.  The  wind  is  ruflling  in  his  hair. 
Dar-thula  is  filent  at  his  fide.  Her  look  is  fixed  on  the 
chief.  She  drives  to  hide  the  rifmg  figh.  Two  tears 
fwell  in  her  radiant  eyes  1 

"  Althos  !"  faid  the  chief  of  Etha,  "  I  fee  a  cave  in 
that  rock.  Place  Dar-thula  there.  Let  thy  arm,  my  bro- 
ther, be  flrong.  Ardan!  we  meet  the  foe;  call  to  battle 
gloomy  Cairbar.  O  that  he  came  in  his  founding  fleel, 
to  meet  the  fon  of  Ufnoth  !  Dar-thula !  if  thou  fhalt 
efcape,  look  not  on  the  fallen  Nathos  !  Lift  thy  fails,  O 
Althos,  towards  the  echoing  groves  of  my  land. 

"  Tell  the  chief §,  that  his  fon  fell  with  fame;  that 

my 

*  Althos  had  jufl;  returned  from  viewing  the  coaft  of  Lena,  whither  he  had  been 
fent  by  Nathos,  the  beginning  of  the  night. 

+  Cairbar  had  gathered  an  army,  to  the  coaft  of  Ulfier,  in  order  to  oppofe  Fin- 
gal  who  prepared  for  an  expedition  into  Ireland  to  re-eftablifh  the  houfe  of  Cormac 
on  the  throne,  wliich  Cairbar  had  ufurped.  Between  the  wings  of  Cairbar's  army 
was  the  bay  of  Tura,  into  which  the  fhip  of  the  fons  of  Ufnoth  was  driven:  fo  that 
there  was  no  pofTibility  of  their  efcaping. 

11  Semo  was  grandfather  to  Nathos  by  the  mother's  fide.  TJie  fpear  mentioned 
here  was  given  to  Ufnoth  on  his  marriage,  it  being  the  cuilom  then  for  the  father 
of  the  lady  to  give  his  arms  to  his  fon-in-law. 

^  Ufnoth. 


230  DAR-THULAr 

my  fword  did  not  fhun  the  fight.  Tell  him  I  fell  in  the 
midft  of  thoufands.  Let  the  joy  of  his  grief  be  great ! 
Daughter  of  Colla!  call  the  maids  to  Etha's  echoing  hall. 
Let  their  fongs  arife  for  Nathos,  when  fhadowy  autumn 
returns.  O  that  the  voice  of  Cona,  that  Oflian,  might 
be  heard  in  my  praife  !  then  would  my  fpirit  rejoice  in  the 
midft  of  the  rufhing  winds."  And  my  voice  (hall  praife 
thee,  Nathos,  chief  of  the  woody  Etha !  The  voice  of 
Offian  fhall  rife  in  thy  praife,  fon  of  the  generous  Ufnoth! 
Why  was  I  not  on  Lena,  when  the  battle  rofe  ?  Then 
would  the  fword  of  Offian  defend  thee ;  or  himfeif  fall 
low ! 

We  fat,  that  night,  in  Selma,  round  the  ftrength  of 
the  fhell.  The  wind  was  abroad,  in  the  oaks.  The  fpirit 
of  the  mountain  *'  roared.  The  blafl  came  ruftling  through 
the  hall,  and  gently  touched  my  harp.  The  found  was 
mournful  and  low,  like  the  fong  of  the  tomb.  Fingal 
heard  it  the  firft.  The  crouded  fighs  of  his  bofom  rofe. 
"  Some  of  my  heroes  are  low,"  faid  the  grey-haired  king 
of  Morven.  "  I  hear  the  found  of  death  on  the  harp. 
Offian,  touch  the  trembling  firing.  Bid  the  forrow  rife ; 
that  their  fpirits  may  fly,  with  joy,  to  Morven's  woody 
hills  !"  I  touched  the  harp  before  the  king ;  the  found 
was  mournful  and  low.  "  Bend  forward  from  your 
clouds,"  I  faid,  "  ghofls  of  my  fathers  !  bend  !  Lay  by 
the  red  terror  of  your  courfe.  Receive  the  falling  chief; 
whether  he  comes  from  a  diftant  land,  or  rifes  from  the 
rolling  fea.  Let  his  robe  of  mid  be  near;  his  fpear,  that 
is  formed  of  a  cloud.  Place  an  half-extinguilhed  meteor 
by  his  fide,  in  the  form  of  the  hero's  fword.  And,  oh ! 
let  his  countenance  be  lovely,  that  his  friends  may  delight 
in  his  prefence.  Bend  from  your  cloud,"  I  faid,  "  ghofls 
of  my  fathers  !  bend  !" 

Such  was  my  fong  in  Selma,  to  the  lightly-trembhng 
harp.  But  Nathos  was  on  Erin's  Ihore,  furrounded  by 
the  night.  He  heard  the  voice  of  the  foe,  amidfl  the  roar 
of  tumbling  \vaves.  Silent  he  heard  their  voice,  and  left- 
cd  on  his  fpear!  Morning  rofe,  with  its  beams.    The  fons 

of 

*  By  ihe  fpiiit  of  the  mountain  is  meant  that  deep  and  melancholy  found  which 
precedes  a  ftorm  ;  well  known  to  ihofe  who  live  iu  a  high  country. 


A    POEM.  231 

of  Erin  appear  ;  like  grey  rocks,  with  all  their  trees,  they 
fpread  along  the  coail.  Cairbar  flood,  in  the  midft.  He 
grimly  fmiled  when  he  faw  the  foe.  Nathos  rufhed  for- 
ward, in  his  ftrength :  nor  could  Dar-thula  flay  behind. 
She  came  with  the  hero,  lifting  her  fhining  fpear.  And 
who  are  thefe,  in  their  armour,  in  the  pride  of  youth  ? 
Who  but  the  fons  of  Ufnoth,  Aithos  and  dark-haired 
Ardan  ? 

"  Come,"  faid  Nathos,  "  come  !  chief  of  high  Temo- 
ra !  Let  our  battle  be  on  the  coall,  for  the  white-bofomed 
maid.  His  people  are  not  with  Nathos  ;  they  are  behind 
thefe  rolling  feas.  Why  doft  thou  bring  thy  thoufands 
againfl  the  chief  of  Etha  ?  Thou  didfl  fly  *  from  him,  in 
battle,  when  his  friends  were  around  his  fpear."  "  Youth 
of  the  heart  of  pride,  fhall  Erin's  king  fight  with  thee  ? 
Thy  fathers  were  not  among  the  renowned,  nor  of  the 
kings  of  men.  Are  the  arms  of  foes  in  their  halls  ?  or 
the  fhields  of  other  times  ?  Cairbar  is  renowned  in  Te- 
mora,  nor  does  he  fight  with  feeble  men  1" 

The  tear  ftarted  from  car-borne  Nathos.  He  turned 
his  eyes  to  his  brothers.  Their  fpears  flew,  at  once.  Three 
heroes  lay  on  earth.  Then  the  light  of  their  fwords  gleam- 
ed on  high.  The  ranks  of  Erin  yield;  as  a  ridge  of  dark 
clouds  before  a  blafl  of  wind  !  Then  Cairbar  ordered  his 
people,  and  they  drew  a  thoufand  bows.  A  thoufand  ar- 
rows flew.  The  fons  of  Ufnoth  fell  in  blood.  They  fell 
like  three  young  oaks,  which  flood  alone  on  the  hill:  The 
traveller  faw  the  lovely  trees,  and  wondered  how  they  grew 
fo  lonely:  the  blafl  of  the  defart  came,  by  night,  and  laid 
their  green  heads  low ;  next  day  he  returned,  but  they 
were  withered,  and  the  heath  was  bare  ! 

Dar-thui.a  flood  in  filent  grief,  and  beheld  their  fall! 
No  tear  is  in  her  eye  ;  but  her  look  is  wildly  fad.  Pale 
was  her  cheek.  Her  trembling  lips  broke  fliort  an  half- 
formed  word.  Her  dark  hair  flew  on  wind.  The  gloomy 
Cairbar  came.  "  Where  is  thy  lover  now  ?  the  car-borne 
chief  of  Etha  ?  Hafl:  thou  beheld  the  halls  of  Ufnoth  ? 
or  the  dark-brown  hills  of  Fingal  ?  My  battle  would  have 
roared  on  Morven,  had  not  the  winds  met  Dar-thuia. 

Fingal 

*  He  alludes  to  the  flight  of  Cairbar  from  Selama, 


232  D  A  R  -  T  H  U  L  A. 

Fingal  himfelf  would  have  been  low,  and  forrow  dwelling 
in  Selma !"  Her  fhield  fell  from  Dar-thula's  arm.  Her 
breafl  of  fnow  appeared.  It  appeared  ;  but  it  was  ftained 
with  blood.  An  arrow  was  fixed  in  her  fide.  She  fell  on 
the  fallen  Nathos,  like  a  wreath  of  fnow !  Her  hair  fpreads 
wide  on  his  face.    Their  blood  is  mixing  round  ! 

"  Daughter  of  Colla  !  thou  art  low  1"  faid  Cairbar's 
hundred  bards.  "  Silence  is  at  the  blue  Itreams  of  Se- 
iama.  TruthiFs*  race  have  failed.  When  wilt  thou  rife 
in  thy  beauty,  firft  of  Erin's  maids  ?  Thy  fleep  is  long  in 
the  tomb  :  the  morning,  diflant  far.  The  fun  fhall  not 
come  to  thy  bed  and  fay,  '°  Awake,  Darthulal  awake,  thou 
firft  of  women  !  The  wind  of  fpring  is  abroad  1  the  flowers 
ihake  their  heads  on  the  green  hills !  the  woods  wave  their 
growing  leaves  !"  Retire,  O  fun  !  the  daughter  of  Colla 
is  afleep.  She  will  not  come  forth  in  her  beauty  !  She 
will  not  move,  in  the  fteps  of  her  lovelinefs !" 

Such  was  the  fong  of  the  bards,  when  they  raifed  the 
tomb.  I  fung  over  the  grave,  when  the  king  of  Morven 
came ;  when  he  came  to  green  Erin,  to  fight  with  car- 
borne  Cairbar  ! 

*  Truthil  was  the  founder  of  Dar-thula's  family. 


T  H  E 


THE 


DEATH  OF  CUTHULLIN 


A 


P  O  E 


ARGUMENT. 

CUTHULLIN,  after  the  arms  of  Fingal  had  expelled  Swaran  from  Ireland,  con- 
tinued to  manage  the  affairs  of  that  kingdom  as  the  guardian  of  Cormac,  the 
young  king.  In  the  third  year  of  CuthuUin's  adminiftration,  Torlath,  the  fon 
of  Cantela,  rebelled  in  Connaught;  and  advanced  to  Temora  to  dethrone  Cor- 
mac. CuthuUin  naarched  againft  hisn,  came  up  v;ith  him  at  the  lake  of  Lego, 
and  totally  defeated  his  forces.  Torlath  fell  in  battle  by  CuthuUin's  hand;  but 
as  he  too-eagerly  preffed  on  the  enemy,  he  was  mortally  wounded.  The  af- 
fairs of  Cormac,  though,  for  fome  time,  fupported  by  Nathos,  as  mentioned  in 
the  preceding  poem,  f>;ll  into  confufion  at  the  death  of  Cuthullin.  Cormac  him- 
i^elf  was  flain  by  the  rebel  Cairbar;  and  the  re-eflablifhment  of  the  royal  family 
of  Ireland  by  Fingal,  furniihes  the  fabjeft  of  the  epic  poem  of  Temora. 


The  death  of  CUTHULLIN: 


P  O  EM. 

Is  the  wind  on  the  fhleld  of  Fingal  ?  or  Is  the  voice  of 
pad  times  in  my  hall  ?  Sing  on^  fweet  voice,  for  thou 
art  pleafant.  Thou  carried  away  my  night  with  joy* 
Sing  on,  O  Bragela,  daughter  of  car-borne  Sorglan  ! 

"  It  is  the  white  wave  of  the  rock,  and  not  CuthuUin's 
fails.  Often  do  the  mifls  deceive  me,  for  the  fhip  of  my 
love  ;  when  they  rife  round  fome  ghoil,  and  fpread  their 
grey  fkirts  on  the  wind.  Vv'hy  dolt  thou  delay  thy  com- 
ing, fon  of  the  generous  Semo  ?  Four  times  has  autumn 
returned  with  its  winds,  and  raifed  the  feas  of  Togorma*, 
fmce  thou  haft  been  in  the  roar  of  battles,  and  Bragela 
diftant  far  !  Hills  of  the  iile  of  mift  !  when  will  ye  anfwer 
to  his  hounds  ?  But  ye  are  dark  in  your  clouds.  Sad 
Bragela  calls  in  vain  !  Night  comes  roiling  down.  The 
face  of  ocean  fails.  The  heath-cock's  head  is  beneath  his 
wing.  The  hind  fleeps,  with  the  hart  of  the  defart.  They 
fhall  rife  with  morning's  light,  and  feed  by  the  mofly 
ftream.  But  my  tears  return  with  the  fun  ;  my  fighs 
come  on  with  the  night.  When  wilt  thou  come  in  thine 
arms,  O  chief  of  Erin's  wars  ?" 

Pleasant  is  thy  voice  in  Oilian's  ear,  daughter  of 
car-borne  Sorglan !  But,  retire  to  the  hall  of  fliells  ;  to 
the  beam  of  the  burning  oak.  Attend  to  the  murmur  of 
the  fea  :  it  rolls  at  Dunfcai's  walls.  Let  lleep  defcend  on, 
thy  blue  eyes  :  let  the  hero  arife  in  thy  dreams  ! 

CuTHULLIN 

*  Togorma,  i.  e.  the  ijland  of  blue  waves,  one  of  the  Hebrides,  was  fubjeft  to 
Connal,  the  fon  of  Caithbat,  CuthuUin's  friend.  He  is  fometimes  called  tie  fon 
of  Colgar,  from  one  of  that  name  who  was  the  founder  of  the  family.  Connal,  a 
few  days  before  the  news  of  Torlath's  revolt  came  to  Temora,  had  failed  to  To" 
gorma,  his  native  ifle ;  where  he  w-is  detained  by  contrary  winOs  during  the  war  ifi 
'.vhich  Cuthullin  was  killed. 


236      The  death  of  CUTHULLIN  : 

CuTHULLiN  fits  at  Lego's  lake,  at  the  dark-rolling  of 
waters.  Night  is  around  the  hero.  His  thoufands  fpread 
on  the  heath.  A  hundred  oaks  burn,  in  the  midft.  The 
feafl  of  iliells  is  fmoking  wide.  Carril  ftrikes  the  harp, 
beneath  a  tree.  His  grey  locks  glitter  in  the  beam.  The 
ruftling  blall  of  night  is  near,  and  lifts  his  aged  hair. 
His  fong  is  of  the  blue  Togorma,  and  of  its  chief,  Cu- 
thuUin's  friend !  "  Why  art  thou  abfent,  Connal,  in  the 
day  of  the  gioomy  fhorm  ?  The  chiefs  of  the  fouth  have 
convened,  againft  the  car-borne  Cormac.  The  winds  de- 
tain thy  fails  :  thy  blue  waters  roll  around  thee.  But 
Cormac  is  not  alone.  The  fon  of  Semo  fights  his  wars  ! 
Semo's  fon  his  battles  fights !  the  terror  of  the  flranger ! 
he  that  is  like  the  vapour  of  death,  llowly  borne  by  fultry 
winds !  The  fun  reddens  in  its  prefence  :  the  people  fall 
around." 

Such  was  the  fong  of  Carril,  when  a  fon  of  the  foe 
appeared.  He  threw  down  his  pointlefs  fpear.  He  fpoke 
the  words  of  Torlath  !  Torlath,  chief  of  heroes,  from 
Lego's  fable  furge  !  he  that  led  his  thoufands  to  battle, 
againft  car-borne  Cormac.  Cormac,  who  was  diftant  far, 
in  Temora's  *  echoing  halls :  he  learned  to  bend  the  bow 
of  his  fathers  ;  and  to  lift  the  fpear.  Nor  long  didil  thou 
lift  the  fpear,  mildly-lTiining  beam  of  youth !  death  ftands 
dim  behind  thee,  like  the  darkened  half  of  the  moon,  be- 
hind its  growing  light !  Cuthullin  rofe  before  the  bard  -f, 
that  came  from  generous  Torlath.  He  offered  him  the 
lliell  of  joy.  He  honoured  the  fon  of  fongs.  "  Sweet 
voice  of  Lego  !"  he  faid,  "  what  are  the  words  of  Tor- 
lath ?  Comes  he  to  our  feaft  or  battle,  the  car-borne  fon 
of  Cantela  ||  ?" 

"  He  comes  to  thy  battle,"  replied  the  bard,  "  to  the 
founding  itrife  of  fpears.    When  morning  is  grey  on  Lego, 

Torlath 

*  The  royal  palace  of  the  Iriftj  kings;  Teamhrath,  according  to  fome  of  the 
barqs. 

f  The  bards  were  the  heralds  of  ancient  times;  and  their  perfons  were  facied  on 
account  of  their  office.  In  later  times  they  abufed  that  privilege ;  and  as  their  per- 
fons were  inviolable,  they  fatyrifed  and  lampooned  fo  freely  thofe  who  were  not 
liked  by  their  patrons,  that  tuey  became  a  public  nuifance.  Screened  under  the 
charatter  of  heralds,  they  grol'sly  abufed  the  enemy  when  he  would  not  accept  the 
icrms  they  offered. 

1]  CecLii-teola',  uiad  of  a  farmty. 


A     POEM. 


237 


Torlath  will  fight  on  the  plain.  Wilt  thou  meet  him,  in 
thine  arms,  king  of  the  ifle  of  mift  ?  Terrible  is  the  fpear 
of  Torlath  !  it  is  a  meteor  of  night.  He  lifts  it,  and  the 
people  fall !  death  fits  in  the  lightning  of  his  fword  !'" 
"  Do  I  fear,"  replied  Cuthullin,  "  the  fpear  of  car-borne 
Torlath  ?  He  is  brave  as  a  thoufand  heroes :  but  my  foul 
delights  in  war !  The  fword  refts  not  by  the  fide  of  Cu- 
thullin, bard  of  the  times  of  old !  Morning  fhall  meet  me 
on  the  plain,  and  gleam  on  the  blue  arms  of  Semo's  fon. 
But  fit  thou,  on  the  heath,  O  bard  !  and  let  us  hear  thy 
voice.  Partake  of  the  joyful  fhell  j  and  hear  the  fongs  of 
Temora  !" 

"  This  is  no  time,"  replied  the  bard,  "  to  hear  the 
fong  of  joy  ;  when  the  mighty  are  to  meet  in  battle,  like 
the  llrength  of  the  waves  of  Lego.  Why  art  thou  fo  dark, 
Slimora*!  with  all  thy  filent  woods?  No  ftar  trembles 
on  thy  top  :  no  moon-beam,  on  thy  fide.  But  the  meteors 
of  death  are  there  :  the  grey  watry  forms  of  ghofls.  Why 
art  thou  dark,  Slimora  !  with  thy  filent  woods  ?"  He  re- 
tired, in  the  found  of  his  fong.  Carril  joined  his  voice. 
The  mufic  was  like  the  memory  of  joys  that  are  paft, 
pleafant  and  mournful  to  the  foul.  The  ghofts  of  departed 
bards  heard  on  Slimora's  fide.  Soft  founds  fpread  along 
the  wood.  The  filent  valleys  of  night  rejoice.  So,  when 
he  fits  in  the  filence  of  the  day,  in  the  valley  of  his  breeze, 
the  humming  of  the  mountain-bee  comes  to  OfTian's  ear: 
the  gale  drowns  it  in  its  courfe  ;  but  the  pleafant  found 
returns  again  !  Slant  looks  the  fun  on  the  field  ;  gradual 
grows  the  fliade  of  the  hill ! 

"  Raise,"  faid  Cuthullin,  to  his  hundred  bards,  "  the 
fong  of  the  noble  Fingal :  that  fong  which  he  hears  at 
night,  when  the  dreams  of  his  reft  defcend  ;  when  the 
bards  ftrike  the  diftant  harp,  and  the  faint  light  gleams  on 
Selma's  walls.  Or  let  the  grief  of  Lara  rife  :  the  fighs  of 
the  mother  of  Calmar  |,  when  he  was  fought,  in  vain,  on 

his 

*  Slia'mor,  great  hill. 

+  Calmar,  the  {'on  ofMatha.  His  death  is  related  at  large  in  the  third  book  of 
Fingal.  He  was  the  only  fon  of  Matha  ;  and  the  family  was  exlind  in  him.  The 
jcat  of  the  family  was  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Lara,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Lesrc, 
f,nd  probably  near  the  place  where  Cuthullin  lay;  which  circumftaEce  faggefied  to 
him  the  lamentation  of  Alcletha  over  her  fon,' 


238      The  DEATH  of  CUTHULLIN  : 

his  hills ;  when  fhe  beheld  his  bow  in  the  hall.  Carril,, 
place  the  Ihield  of  Calthbat  on  that  branch.  Let  the  fpear 
of  Cuthiillin  be  near ;  that  the  found  of  my  battle  may 
rife,  with  the  grey  beam  of  the  eaft."  The  hero  leaned 
on  his  father's  ihield:  the  fong  of  Lara  rofe!  The  hundred 
bards  were  diflant  far:  Carrii  alone  is  near  the  chief.  The 
words  of  the  fong  were  his :  the  found  of  his  harp  was 
mournful. 

"  Alcletha  *  with  the  aged  locks!  mother  of  car- 
borne  Calmar  !  why  doft  thou  look  towards  the  defart,  to 
behold  the  return  of  thy  fon  ?  Thefe  are  not  his  heroes, 
dark  on  the  heath  :  nor  is  that  the  voice  of  Calmar.  It 
is  but  the  diflant  grove,  Alcletha  !  but  the  roar  of  the 
mountain  wind  !  "  Who  -j-  bounds  over  Lara's  ftream^ 
filler  of  the  noble  Calmar  ?  Does  not  Alcletha  behold  his 
fpear  ?  But  her  eyes  are  dim !  Is  it  not  the  fon  of  Matha, 
daughter  of  my  love  ?" 

"  i  r  is  but  an  aged  oak,  Alcletha  !"  replied  the  lovely 
v/eeping  Alonaj|.  "  It  is  but  an  oak,  Alcletha,  bent  over 
Lara's  ilream.  But  who  comes  along  the  plain  ?  Sorrow 
is  in  his  fpeed.  He  lifts  high  the  fpear  of  Calmar.  Alcle- 
tha, it  is  covered  with  blood !"  "  But  it  is  covered  with 
the  blood  of  foes§,  filler  of  car-borne  Calmar  !  His  fpear 
never  returned  unllained  v/ith  blood ;  nor  his  bow,  from 
the  ftrife  of  the  mighty.  The  battle  is  confumed  in  his  pre- 
fence:  he  is  aflame  of  death,  Alona!  Youth*[of  the  mourn- 
ful fpeed  !  where  is  the  fon  of  Alcletha  ?  Does  he  return 
with  his  fame,  in  the  midfl  of  his  echoing  Hiields  ?  Thou 
art  dark,  and  filent !  Calmar  is,  then,  no  more  !  Tell  me 
not,  Vv  arrior,  how  he  fell.  I  mull  not  hear  of  his  wound  !" 
Why  doft  thou  look  tovv^ards  the  defart,  mother  of  low- 
laid  Calmar?" 

Such  was  the  fong  of  Carrii,  when  Cuthullin  lay  on 

his 

*  Ald-cla'tha  decaying  beauty :  probably  a  poencal  name  given  the  mother  of 
Calmar,  by  the  bard  himfclf. 

i  Alcletha  fpcaks.  Calmar  had  promifed  to  return,  by  a  certain  day,  and  his 
inothcr  and  his  filler  Alona  aie  reprefented  as  lookin'^,  with  impatience,  towards 
that  qunrter  where  they  expcQed  Calmar  ihould  make  his  firll  appearance. 

■!  Aloine,  fxquifite  leaiity. 

^i  Alcletha  I'pcaks. 

"il  She  addrelJes  herlVir  to  Laniir,  Calmar's  ftiend,  who  ha>l  returned  with  the 


A     POEM.  239 

his  fhield.  The  bards  relied  on  their  harps.  Sleep  fell 
foftly  around.  The  fon  of  Semo  was  awake  alone.  His 
foul  was  fixed  on  war.  The  burning  oaks  began  to  decay. 
Faini  red  light  is  fpread  around.  A  feeble  voice  is  heard. 
The  ghofl  of  Calmar  came  !  He  ftalked  dimly  along  the 
beam.  Dark  is  the  wound  in  his  fide.  His  hair  is  difor- 
dered  and  loofe.  Joy  fits  pale  on  his  face.  He  feems  to 
invite  Cuthullin  to  his  cave. 

"  Son  of  the  cloudy  night  i"  faid  the  rifmg  chief  of 
Erin,  "  why  doft  thou  bend  thy  dark  eyes  on  me,  ghoft 
of  the  noble  Calmar  ?  Wouldfl  thou  frighten  me,  O 
Matha's  fon  !  from  the  battles  of  Cor  mac  ?  Thy  hand 
was  not  feeble  in  war  ;  neither  was  thy  voice  for  peace. 
How  art  thou  changed,  chief  of  Lara  !  if  thou  now  doft 
advife  to  fly  !  But,  Calmar,  I  never  fled.  I  never  feared 
the  ghofts  of  night.  Small  is  their  knowledge,  weak 
their  hands  ;  their  dwelling  is  in  the  wind.  But  my  foul 
grows  in  danger,  and  rejoices  in  the  noife  of  fteel.  P.e- 
tire  thou  to  thy  cave.  Thou  art  not  Calmar's  ghoft.  He 
delighted  in  battle  :  his  arm  was  like  the  thunder  of  hea- 
ven !'*  He  retired  in  his  blaft  vvdth  joy,  for  he  had  heard 
the  voice  of  his  praife. 

The  faint  beam  of  the  morning  rofe.  The  found  of 
Caithbat's  buckler  fpread.  Green  Erin's  warriors  con- 
vened, like  the  roar  of  many  ftreams.  The  horn  of  war 
is  heard  over  Lego.  The  mighty  Torlath  cam.e,  "  Why 
doft  thou  come  with  thy  thoufands,  Cuthullin  ?"  faid  the 
chief  of  Lego.  ''  I  know  the  ftrength  of  thy  arm.  Thy 
foul  is  an  unextinguilhed  (ire.  Why  fight  we  not  on  the 
plain,  and  let  our  hofts  behold  our  deeds  ?  Let  them  be- 
hold us  like  roaring  waves,  that  tumble  round  a  rock  ; 
the  mariners  haften  awav,  and  look  on  their  ftrife  vvith 
fear." 

"  Thou  rifeft,  like  the  fun,  on  my  foul,"  replied  the 
fon  of  Semo.  "  Thine  arm  is  mighty,  O  Torlath  !  and 
worthy  of  my  wrath.  Retire,  ye  men  of  Uilin,  to  Sli- 
mora's  fliady  fide.  Behold  the  chief  of  Erin,  in  the  day 
of  his  fame.  Carril !  tell  to  mighty  Connal,  if  Cuthullin 
muft  fall — tell  him  I  accufed  the  winds,  which  roar  on 
Togorma's  waves.    Never  was  he  abfent  in  battle,  when 

the 


240      The  DEATH  of  CUTHULLIN  : 

the  flrife  of  my  fame  arofe.  Let  his  fword  be  before 
Cormac,  like  the  beam  of  heaven.  Let  his  counfel  found 
in  Temora,  in  the  day  of  danger  !'* 

He  rufhed,  in  the  found  of  his  arms,  like  the  terrible 
fpirit  of  Loda*  ;  when  he  comes,  in  the  roar  of  a  thou- 
fand  florms,  and  fcatters  battles  from  his  eyes.  He  fits 
on  a  cloud  over  Lochlin's  feas.  His  mighty  hand  is  on 
his  fVv'ord.  Winds  lift  his  flaming  locks  !  The  waining 
moon  half-lights  his  dreadful  face.  His  features,  blended 
in  darknefs,  arife  to  view.  So  terrible  was  Cuthullin,  in 
the  day  of  his  fame.  Torlath  fell  by  his  hand.  Lego's 
heroes  mourned.  They  gather,  around  the  chief,  like  the 
clouds  of  the  defart.  A  thoufand  fwords  rofe  at  once  ;  a 
thoufand  arrows  flev/.  But  he  flood  like  a  rock,  in  the 
midfl  of  the  roaring  fea.  They  fell  around.  He  ftrode  in 
blood.  Dark  Slimora  echoed  wide.  The  fons  of  Ullin 
came.  The  battle  fpread  over  Lego.  The  chief  of  Erin 
overcame.  He  returned  over  the  field  with  his  fame.  But 
pale  he  returned  !  The  joy  of  his  face  was  dark.  He  roll- 
ed his  eyes  in  fdence.  The  fword  hung,  unflieathed,  in 
his  hand  :  his  fpear  bent  at  every  ftep  ! 

"  Cap.ril  1"  faid  the  chief  in  fecret,  "  the  ftrength  of 
Cuthullin  fails.  My  days  are  with  the  years  that  are  pad. 
No  m.ornlng  of  mine  fiiall  arife.  They  fhall  feek  me  at 
Temora,  but  I  fhall  not  be  found.  Cormac  will  weep  in 
his  hall,  and  fay,  "  Where  is  Erin's  chief  ?"  But  my 
name  is  renowned  !  my  fame,  in  the  fong  of  bards.  The 
vouth  will  fay  in  fecret,  "  O  let  me  die  as  Cuthullin  died. 
Renown  clothed  him  like  a  robe  :■  the  lio;ht  of  his  fame  is 
great."  Draw  the  arrow  from  my  fide.  Lay  Cuthullin 
beneath  that  oak.  Place  the  fhield  of  Caithbat  near,  that 
they  may  behold  me  amidft  the  arms  of  my  fathers  !" 

"  And  is  the  fon  of  .Semo  fallen  ?"  faid  Carril,  with  a 
figh.  "  Mournful  are  Tura's  walls.  Sorrow  dwells  at 
Dunfc'di.    Thy  fpoufe  is  left  alone  in  her  vouth.    The  fonf 

of 

*  Loda,  in  the  third  book  of  Fingal,  is  mentioned  as  a  place  of  worfhip  in  Scan- 
dinavia :  by  the  fpirit  cf  Loda,  the  poet  probably  means  Oclin,  the  great  deity  of 
the  northern  natipns.     lie  is  defcribed  here  with  all  his  terrois. 

i  Conloch,  who  was  afterwards  very  famous  for  his  great  exploits  in  Ireland. 
H;  was  fo  reni&rkubh  for  bis  dexterity  in  handling  the  javelin,  that  when  a  ,e;0od 

marklraan 


A     P  O  E  M.  241 

of  thy  love  is  alone !  He  fliall  come  to  Bragela,  and  afk 
her  why  flie  weeps.  He  fhall  lift  his  eyes  to  the  wall,  and 
fee  his  father's  fword.  "  Whofe  fword  is  that  ?"  he  will 
fay.  The  foul  of  his  mother  is  fad.  Who  is  that,  like  the 
hart  of  the  defart,  in  the  murmur  of  his  courfe  ?  His  eyes 
look  wildly  round,  in  fearch  of  his  friend.  Connal,  fon. 
of  Colgar,  where  haft  thou  been,  when  the  mighty  fell  ? 
Did  the  feas  of  Togorma  roll  around  thee  ?  Was  the 
wind  of  the  fouth  in  thy  fails  ?  iThe  mighty  have  fallen, 
in  battle,  and  thou  waft  not  there.  Let  none  tell  it  in. 
Selma,  nor  in  Morven's  woody  land.  Fingal  will  be  fad, 
and  the  fons  of  the  defart  mourn  !" 

By  the  dark-rolling  waves  of  Lego  they  raifed  the  hero's 
tomb.  Luath*,  at  a  diftance,  lies.  The  fong  of  bards 
rofe  over  the  dead. 

"  Blestj  be  thy  foul,  fon  of  Semo.  Thou  wert  migh- 
ty in  battle.  Thy  ftrength  was  like  the  ftrength  of  a 
ftream  :  thy  fpeed,  like  the  eagle's  wing.  Thy  path  in 
battle  was  terrible  :  the  fteps  of  death  were  behind  thy 
fword.  Bleft  be  thy  foul,  fon  of  Semo,  car-borne  chief 
of  Dunfcai.  Thou  haft  not  fallen  by  the  fword  of  the 
mighty,  neither  was  thy  blood  on  the  fpear  of  the  brave- 
The  arrow  came,  like  the  fting  of  death  in  a  blaft  :  nor 
did  the  feeble  hand,  which  drew  the  bow,  perceive  it» 
Peace  to  thy  foul,  in  thy  cave,  chief  of  the  iile  of  mift  ! 

"  The  mighty  are  difperfed  at  Temora :  there  is  none 
in  Cormac's  hall.  The  king  mourns  in  his  youth.  He 
does  not  behold  thy  return.  The  found  of  thy  fhield  is 
ceafed :  his  foes  are  gathering  round.  Soft  be  thy  reft  ill 
thy  cave,  chief  of  Erin's  wars  !  Bragela  will  not  hope  for 
thy  return,  or  fee  thy  fails  in  ocean's  foam.  Her  fteps  are 
not  on  the  ftiore  ;    nor  her  ear  open  to  the  voice  of  thy 

H  h  rowers. 

markfman  Is  defcribed,  it  has  puffed  into  a  proverb,  in  the  north  of  Scctland,  He  is 
unerring  as  the  arm  of  Conlock, 

*  It  was,  of  old,  the  cufiom  to  bury  the  favourite  dog  near  the  mafter.  This  was 
not  pecuHar  to  the  ancient  Scots,  for  we  find  it  praftiled  by  many  other  nations  in 
their  ages  of  heroifm.  There  is  a  flone  flicwn  flill  at  Dunfcai  in  the  ifle  of  Sky, 
to  which  Cuthulhn  commonly  bound  his  dog  Luath.  The  Hone  goes  by  his  name 
to  this  day. 

t  This  is  the  fong  of  the  bards  over  Cuthulhn's  tomb.  Every  flanza  clofes  with 
fome  remarkable  title  of  the  hero,  which  was  always  the  cuftom  in  funeral  elegies. 


242       The  DEATH  of  CUTHULLIN. 

rowers.  She  fits  in  the  hail  of  fliells.  She  fees  the  arms 
of  him  that  is  no  more.  Thine  eyes  are  full  of  tears, 
daughter  of  car-borne  Sorglan !  Blefi  be  thy  foul  in 
death,  O  chief  of  fliady  Tura  I" 


T  H  E 


THE 


ATTL'E  OF  L 


POEM. 


ARGUMENT. 

FINGAL,  on  his  return  from  Ireland,  after  he  had  expelled  Swaran  from  that 
kingdom,  made  a  fead  to  all  his  heroes ;  he  forgot  to  invite  Ma-ronnan  and  Al- 
fJo,  two  chiefs,  who  had  not  been  along  with  him  in  his  expedition.  They  re- 
fented  his  negleft;  and  went  over  to  Erragon  king  of  Sora,  a  country  of  Scandi- 
navia, the  declared  enemy  of  Fingal.  The  valour  of  Aldo  foon  gained  him  a 
great  reputation  in  Sora  ;  and  Lorma  the  beautiful  wife  of  Erragon  fell  In  love 
tvith  him.  He  found  means  to  efcapc  ^vtth  her,  and  to  come  to  Fingal,  who 
refided  then  in  Selma  on  the  wefiern  coaft.  Erragon  invaded  Scotland,  and  was 
llain  in  battle  by  Gaul  the  fon  of  Morni,  after  he  had  rejcfted  terms  of  peace  of- 
fered him  by  Fingal,  In  this  war  Aldo  fell,  in  a  fingle  combat,  by  the  hands 
of  his  rival  Erragon  ;  and  the  unfortunate  Lorma  afterwards  died  of  grief. 


The  battle  of  LORA  : 


P  O  E  M. 

SON  of  the  dlftant  land,  who  dwellefl  in  the  fecret  cell! 
do  I  hear  the  found  of  thy  grove  ?  or  is  it  thy  voice 
of  fongs  ?  The  torrent  was  loud  in  my  ear ;  but  I  heard  a 
tuneful  voice.  Doft  thou  praife  the  chiefs  of  thy  land ;  or 
the  fpirits  *  of  the  wind  ?  But,  lonely  dweller  of  rocks  ! 
look  thou  on  that  heathy  plain.  Thou  feeft  green  tombs, 
with  their  rank,  whiftling  grafs;  with  their  (tones  of  moffy 
heads.  Thou  feefl  them,  fon  of  the  rock ;  but  Offian's 
eyes  have  failed. 

A  MOUNTAIN-STREAM  comes  roaring  down,  and  fends 
its  waters  round  a  green  hill.  Four  moffy  (tones,  in  the 
mid(h  of  withered  grafs,  rear  their  heads  on  the  top.  Two 
trees,  which  the  (forms  have  bent,  fpread  their  whiuling 
branches  around.  This  is  thy  dwelling,  Erragon  | ;  this, 
thy  narrow  houfe.  The  found  of  thy  (hells  have  been  long 
forgot  in  Sora  :  thy  (hield  is  become  dark  in  thy  hall.' 
Erragon,  king  of  (hips  !  chief  of  diftant  Sora  !  how  haft 
thou  fallen  on  our  mountains  ?  how  is  the  mighty  low  ? — 
Son  of  the  fecret  cell !  doft  thou  delight  in  fongs  ?  Hear 
the  battle  of  Lora.  The  found  of  its  fteel  is  long  fmce 
paft.  So  thunder,  on  the  darkened  hill,  roars,  and  is  no 
more.  The  fun  returns  with  his  filent  beams.  The  glit- 
tering rocks,  and  green  heads  of  the  mountains,  fmile ! 

The  bay  of  Cona  received  our  (hips  ||  from  Erin's  roll- 
ing waves.  Our  white  (heets  hung  loofe  to  the  mafts. 
The  boifterous  winds  roared  behind  the  groves  of  Morven. 
The  horn  of  the  king  is  founded :  the  deer  ftart  from  their 
rocks.  Our  arrows  flew  in  the  woods.  The  feaft  of  the 
hill  is  fpread.     Our  joy  was  great,  on  our  rocks,  for  the 

fall 

*  Alluding  to  the  religious  hymns  of  the  Culdees. 

+  Erragon,  or  Ferg-thonn,  fignlfies  the  rage  of  the  waves :  probably  a  poetical 
name  given  him  by  OlTian  himfelf ;  for  he  goes  by  the  name  of  Annir  in  tradition. 
II  This  was  at  Fingal's  return  from  his  war  againll  Swaran. 


246         The  battle  of  LORA  : 

fall  of  the  terrible  Swaran.  Two  heroes  were  forgot  at 
our  feaft.  The  rage  of  their  bofoms  burned.  They  rolled 
their  red  eyes  in  fecret.  The  figh  burfts  from  their  breafts. 
They  were  feen  to  talk  together,  and  to  throw  their  fpears 
on  earth.  They  were  two  dark  clouds,  in  the  midft  of 
our  joy;  like  pillars  of  mift  on  the  fettled  fea.  They  glit- 
ter to  the  fun,  but  the  mariners  fear  a  ftorm. 

"  Raise  my  white  fails,"  faid  Ma-ronnan,  "  raife  them 
to  the  winds  of  the  weft.  Let  us  rufti,  O  Aldo,  through 
the  foam  of  the  northern  wave.  We  are  forgot  at  the 
feaft:  but  our  arms  have  been  red  in  blood.  Let  us  leave 
the  hills  of  Fingal,  and  ferve  the  king  of  Sora.  His  coun- 
tenance is  fierce.  War  darkens  around  his  fpear.  Let  us 
be  renowned,  O  Aldo,  in  the  battles  of  other  lands'." 

They  took  their  fwords,  their  ftiields  of  thongs.  They 
Tulhed  to  Lumar's  refounding  bay.  They  came  to  Sora's 
haughty  king,  the  chief  of  bounding  fteeds.  Erragon  had 
returned  from  the  chace.  His  fpear  was  red  in  blood.  He 
bent  his  dark  face  to  the  ground,  and  whiftled  as  he  went. 
He  took  the  ftrangers  to  his  feafts:  they  fought^  and  con- 
quered, in  his  wars. 

Aldo  returned  with  his  fame  towards  Sora's  lofty  walls. 
From  her  tower  looked  the  fpoufe  of  Erragon,  the  humid, 
rolling  eyes  of  Lorma.  Her  yellow  hair  flies  on  the  wind 
of  ocean.  Her  white  breaft  heaves,  like  fnow  on  heath  ; 
when  the  gentle  winds  arife,  and  llowly  move  it  in  the 
light.  She  faw  young  Aldo,  like  the  beam  of  Sora's  fet- 
ting  fun.  Her  foft  heart  fighed.  Tears  filled  her  eyes. 
Her  white  arm  fupported  her  head.  Three  days  fhe  fat 
within  the  hall,  and  covered  her  grief  with  joy.  On  the 
fourth,  fhe  fled  with  the  hero,  along  the  troubled  fea. 
They  came  to  Cona's  mofly  towers,  to  Fingal  king  of 
fpears. 

"  Aldo  of  the  heart  of  pride  !'*  faid  Fingal,  rifing  in 
wrath:  ", ihall  I  defend  thee  from  the  rage  of  Sora's  in- 
jured king  ?  Who  will  now  receive  my  people  into  their 
halls  ?  who  will  give  the  feaft  of  ftrangers ;  fince  Aldo,  of 
the  little  foul,  has  diflionoured  my  name  in  Sora?  Go  to 
thy  hills,  thou  feeble  hand.  Go :  hide  thee  in  thy  caves. 
Mournful  is  the  battle  we  muft  fight,  with  Sora*s  gloomy 

kine. 


A     POEM. 


247 


king.  Spirit  of  the  noble  Trenmor !  when  will  Fingal 
ceale  to  fight  ?  I  was  born  in  the  midft  of  battles  *,  and 
my  fleps  mull  move  in  blood  to  the  tomb.  But  my  hand 
did  not  injure  the  weak,  my  fleel  did  not  touch  the  feeble 
in  arms.  I  behold  thy  tempefts,  O  Morven,  which  will 
overturn  my  halls ;  when  my  children  are  dead  in  battle, 
and  none  remains  to  dwell  in  Selma.  Then  will  the  feeble 
come,  but  they  will  not  know  my  tomb.  My  renown  is 
only  in  fong.  My  deeds  lliall  be  as  a  dream,  to  future 
times !" 

His  people  gathered  around  Erragon,  as  the  ftorms 
round  the  ghofl  of  night ;  M^hen  he  calls  them,  from  the 
top  of  Morven,  and  prepares  to  pour  them  on  the  land  of 
the  flranger.  He  came  to  the  Ihore  of  Cona.  He  fent  his 
bard  to  the  king,  to  demand  the  combat  of  thoufands,  or 
the  land  of  many  hills !  Fingal  fat  in  his  hall,  with  the 
friends  of  his  youth  around  him.  The  young  heroes  were 
at  the  chace,  far  diftant  in  the  defart.  The  grey-haired 
chiefs  talked  of  other  times  ;  of  the  aftions  of  their  youth  ; 
when  the  aged  Nartmorf  came,  the  chief  of  dreamy  Lora. 

"  This  is  no  time,"  laid  Nartmor,  "  to  hear  the  fongs 
of  other  years  :  Erragon  frowns  on  the  coaft,  and  lifts  ten 
thoufand  fwords.  Gloomy  is  the  king  among  his  chiefs ! 
He  is  like  the  darkened  moon,  amidft  the  meteors  of 
night  ;  when  they  fail  along  her  fkirts,  and  give  the  light 
that  has  failed  o'er  her  orb."  "  Come,"  faid  Fingal, 
"  from  thy  hall,  come,  daughter  of  my  love  ;  come  from 
thy  hall,  Bofmina||,  maid  of  flreamy  Morven  !  Nartmor, 
take  the  Heeds  of  the  flrangers.  Attend  the  daughter  of 
Fingal !  Let  her  bid  the  king  of  Sora  to  our  fead:,  to  Sel- 
ma's  lliaded  wall.  Offer  him,  O  Bofmina,  the  peace  of 
heroes,  and  the  wealth  of  generous  Aldo.  Our  youths 
are  far  diilant :  age  is  on  our  trembling  hands  !" 

She  came  to  the  hoft  of  Erragon,  like  a  beam  of  light 
to  a  cloud.  In  her  right  hand  was  feen  a  fparkling  fliell : 
in  her  left,  an  arrow  of  gold.    The  firfl,  the  joyful  mark 

of 

*  Comhal  the  father  of  Fingal  was  flain  In  battle,  againfi  the  tiihe  of  Morni,.  the 
very  day  that  Fmgal  was  born ;  fo  that  he  may,  with  propriety,  be  faid  to  have  been 
horn  in  the  midft  of  battles. 

+  Neart-mor,  great  Jliength.     Lora,  ncify. 

jl  Bof-mhina,  foft  and  tender  hand.     She  was  the  youngeft  of  Fingal's  children. 


248  The  battle  of  LORA  : 

of  peace  :  the  latter,  the  fign  of  war.  Erragon  brightened 
in  her  prefence,  as  a  rock  before  the  fudden  beams  of  the 
fun ;  v/hen  they  iffue  from  a  broken  cloud,  divided  by  the 
roaring  wind ! 

"  Son  of  the  diftant  Sora,"  began  the  mildly-blufhing 
maid,  "  come  to  the  feaft  of  Morven's  king,  to  Selma's 
Ihaded  walls.  Take  the  peace  of  heroes,  O  warrior  !  Let 
the  dark  fword  reft  by  thy  fide.  Chufeft  thou  the  wealth 
of  kings  ?  Then  hear  the  words  of  generous  Aldo.  He 
gives  to  Erragon  an  hundred  fteeds,  the  children  of  the 
rein  ;  an  hundred  maids,  from  diftant  lands ;  an  hundred 
hawks,  with  fluttering  wing,  that  fly  acrofs  the  fls:y.  An 
hundred  girdles  *  fliall  alfo  be  thine,  to  bind  high-bofom- 
ed  maids :  the  friends  of  the  births  of  heroes  :  the  cure  of 
the  fons  of  toil.  Ten  fliells,  ftudded  with  gems,  fliall  fliine 
in  Sora*s  towers :  the  bright  water  trembles  on  their  ftars, 
and  feems  to  be  fparkling  wine.  They  gladdened  once  the 
kings  of  the  worldf ,  in  the  midft  of  their  echoing  halls. 
Thefe,  O  hero,  fliall  be  thine;  or  thy  white-bofonied 
fpoufe.  Lorma  fliall  roll  her  bright  eyes  in  thy  halls  ; 
though  Fingal  loves  the  generous  Aldo  :  Fingal !  who 
never  injured  a  hero,  though  his  arm  is  ftrong  !" 

"  Soft  voice  of  Cona  !'*  replied  the  king,  "  tell  him, 
he  fpreads  his  feaft  in  vain.  Let  Fingal  pour  his  fpoils 
around  me.  Let  him  bend  beneath  my  power.  Let  him 
give  me  the  fwords  of  his  fathers :  the  fliields  of  other 
times  ;  that  my  children  may  behold  them  in  my  halls, 
and  fay,  Thefe  are  the  arms  of  Fingal."  "  Never  fliall 
they  behold  them  in  thy  halls  1"  faid  the  rifmg  pride  of 
the  maid.  "  They  are  in  the  hands  of  heroes,  who  never 
yielded  in  war.  King  of  echoing  Sora !  the  ftorm  is  ga- 
thering on  our  hills.  Doft  thou  not  forefee  the  fall  of  thy 
people,  fon  of  the  diftant  land  ?'* 

She  came  to  Selma's  filent  halls.    The  king  beheld  her 

down- 

■''"  SanQified  girdles,  till  very  lately,  were  kept  in  many  families  in  the  north  of 
Scotland ;  they  were  bound  about  women  m  labour,  and  were  fuppofed  to  alleviate 
their  pains,  and  to  accelerate  the  biith.  They  were  impreffed  with  feveral  myfti- 
cal  figures,  and  the  ceremony  of  binding  them  about  ihe  woman's  waifl,  was  ac- 
companied with  words  and  gei^ures  which  Ihewed  the  cutlom  to  have  come  origi- 
■  dly  from  the  druids. 
~  The.  Roman  emperors. 


A    P  O  E  M.  249 

down-caft  eyes.  He  rofe  from  his  place,  in  his  flrength. 
He  fhook  his  aged  locks.  He  took  the  founding  mail  of 
Trenmor,  the  dark-brown  fliield  of  his  fathers.  Darknefs 
filled  Selma's  hall,  when  he  ftretched  his  hand  to  his  fpear: 
the  ghofts  of  thoufands  were  near,  and  forefaw  the  death 
of  the  people.  Terrible  joy  rofe  in  the  face  of  the  aged 
heroes.  They  ruflied  to  meet  the  foe.  Their  thoughts  are 
on  the  deeds  of  other  years  ;  and  on  the  fame  that  rifes 
from  death  ! 

Now  at  Trathal's  ancient  tomb  the  dogs  of  the  chace 
appeared.  Fingal  knew  that  his  young  heroes  followed. 
He  ftopt  in  the  midft  of  his  courfe.  Ofcar  appeared  the 
lirft ;  then  Morni's  fon,  and  Nemi*s  race.  Fercuth  *  (hew- 
ed his  gloomy  form.  Dermid  fpread  his  dark  hair  on 
wind.  Offian  came  the  laft.  I  hummed  the  fong  of  other 
times.  My  fpear  fupported  my  fteps  over  the  little 
llreams.  My  thoughts  were  of  mighty  men.  Finga! 
ftruck  his  boffy  fliield ;  and  gave  the  difmal  fifn  of 
war.  A  thoufand  fwords,  at  once  unfheathed,  gleam  on 
the  waving  heath.  Three  grey-haired  fons  of  fong  raife 
the  tuneful,  mournful  voice.  Deep  and  dark,  with  found- 
ing fteps,  we  rufli,  a  gloomy  ridge,  along:  like  the  fhower 
of  a  ftorm,  when  it  pours  on  a  narrow  vale. 

The  king  of  Morven  fat  on  his  hill.  The  fun-beam  of 
battle  flew  on  the  wind.  The  friends  of  his  youth  are 
near,  with  all  their  waving  locks  of  age.  Joy  rofe  in  the 
hero's  eyes  when  he  beheld  his  fons  in  war;  when  he  faw 
us,  amidfl  the  lightning  of  fwords,  mindful  of  the  deeds 
of  our  fathers.  Erragon  came  on,  in  his  flrength,  like 
the  roar  of  a  winter  fiream.  The  battle  falls  around  his 
fleps  :  death  dimly  ftalks  along  by  his  fide  ! 

"  Who  comes,"  faid  Fingal,  "  like  the  bounding  roe, 
like  the  hart  of  echoing  Cona  ?  His  fliield  glitters  on  hiti 
fide.  The  clang  of  his  armour  is  mournful.  He  meets 
with  Erragon  in  the  flrife!  Behold  the  battle  of  the  chiefs ! 
It  is  like  the  contending  of  ghofts  in  a  gloomy  ftorm. 
But  fallefl  thou,  fon  of  the  hill,  and  is  thy  white  bofom 
ftained  with  blood  ?    Weep,  unhappy  Lorma,  Aido  is  no 

I  i  more  !'* 

*  Fear-cuth,  the'  fame  with  Fergus,  tk  man  of  tk  zcord^  or  commander  of  an 
ariry. 


250         The  battle  of  LORA: 

more !"  The  king  took  the  fpear  of  his  flrength.  He  was 
fad  for  the  fail  of  Aido.  He  bent  his  dreadful  eyes  on  the 
foe :  but  Gaul  met  the  king  of  Sora.  Who  can  relate  the 
fip-ht  of  the  chiefs  ?    The  mighty  ft  ranger  fell ! 

"  Sons  of  Cona  !'*  Fingal  cried  aloud,  "  flop  the  hand  of 
death.  Mighty  was  he  that  is  low.  Much  is  he  mourned 
in  Sora!  The  ftranger  will  come  towards  his  hall,  and' 
wonder  why  it  is  fo  filent.  The  king  is  fallen,  O  ftranger. 
The  joy  of  his  houfe  is  ceafed.  Liften  to  the  found  of  his 
woods.  Perhaps  his  ghoft  is  murmuring  there  !  But  he  is 
far  diftant,  on  Morven,  beneath  the  fword  of  a  foreign 
foe.'*  Such  were  the  words  of  Fingal,  when  the  bard 
raifed  the  fong  of  peace.  We  ftopped  our  uplifted  fwords. 
We  fpared  the  feeble  foe.  We  laid  Erragon  in  a  tomb. 
I  raifed  the  voice  of  grief.  The  clouds  of  night  came  roll- 
ing down.  The  ghoft  of  Erragon  appeared  to  fome.  His 
face  was  cloudy  and  dark ;  an  half-formed  figh  is  in  his 
breafF.  "  Bleft  be  thy  foul,  O  king  of  Sora !  thine  arm 
was  terrible  in  war  !" 

LoRMA  fat,  in  Aldo's  hall.  She  fat  at  the  light  of  a 
flaming  oak.  The  night  came  down,  but  he  did  not  re- 
turn. The  foul  of  Lorma  is  fed  !  "  What  detains  thee, 
hunter  of  Cona  ?  Thou  didft  promife  to  return.  Has  the 
deer  been  diftant  far  ?  Do  the  dark  winds  figh,  round 
thee,  on  the  heath  ?  I  am  in  the  land  of  ftrangers ;  where 
is  my  friend,  but  Aldo  ?    Come  from  thy  founding  hills, 

0  my  beft  beloved  !'* 

Her  eyes  are  turned  tow^ard  the  gate.  She  liftens  to 
the  ruftling  blaft.  She  thinks  it  is  Aldo's  tread.  Joy  rifes 
in  her  face !  But  forrov/  returns  again,  like  a  thin  cloud 
on  the  moon.  "  Wilt  thou  not  return,  my  love  ?  Let  me 
behold  the  face  of  the  hill.  The  moon  is  in  the  eaft. 
Calm  and  bright  is  the  breaft  of  the  lake  !  When  fliall  I 
behold  his  dogs,  returning  from  the  chace  ?    When  fhall 

1  hear  his  voice,  loud  and  diftant,  on  the  wind  ?  Come 
from  thy  founding  hills,  hunter  of  the  woody  Cona !" 
His  thin  ghoft  appeared,  on  a  rock,  like  a  watry  beam  of 
feeble  light ;  when  the  moon  rufties  fudden  from  between 
two  clouds,  and  the  midnight  ftiower  is  on  the  field  !  She 
followed  the  empty  form  over  the  heath.    She  knew  that 

her 


A     P  O  E  M.  251 

her  hero  fell.  I  heard  her  approaching  cries  on  the  wind, 
like  the  mournful  voice  of  the  breeze,  when  it  fighs  on 
the  grafs  of  tke  cave ! 

She  came.  She  found  her  hero  !  Her  voice  was  heard 
no  more.  Silent  fhe  rolled  her  eyes.  She  was  pale,  and 
wildly  fad  !  Few  were  her  days  on  Cona.  She  funk  into 
the  tomb.  Fingal  commanded  his  bards  ;  they  fung  over 
the  death  of  Lorma.  The  daughteis  of  Morven  mourned 
her,  for  one  day  in  the  year,  Vv'hen  the  dark  winds  of  au- 
tumn returned  ! 

Son  of  the  diftant  land  *  !  Thou  dwellefl  in  the  field 
of  fame !  O  let  thy  fong  arife,  at  times,  in  praife  of  thofe 
who  fell.  Let  their  thin  ghofts  rejoice  around  thee ;  and 
the  foul  of  Lorma  come  on  a  feeble  beam  | :  when  thou 
lieft  down  to  reft,  and  the  moon  looks  into  thv  cave. 
Then  (halt  thou  fee  her  lovely  5  but  the  tear  is  (till  on  her 
cheek ! 

*  The  poet  addre/Tes  himfelf  to  the  Culdee. 

t  Be  thou  on  a  moon-beam,  O  Morna,  near  the  window  of  my  reft;  v/hen  my 
thoughts  are  of  peace  ;  and  the  din  of  arms  is  paH,  FINGAL,  B.  I, 


T  E  M  O  R  A  : 


E       M       O       R       A: 


A  N 


EPIC       P     O    E    M. 


In    eight    books. 


ARGUMENT. 

];AIRBAR,  the  Ion  ot  Borbar-duthul,  lord  of  Atha  in  Connaught,  the  mofl  po* 
tent  chief  of  the  race  of  the  Fir-blog,  having  murdered,  at  Temora  the  royal  pa- 
lace, Cormac  the  fen  of  Artho,  the  young  king  of  Ireland,  ufurped  the  throne. 
Cormac  was  lineally  defcended  from  Conar  the  fon  of  Trenmor,  the  great  grand- 
father of  Fingal,  king  of  thofe  Caledonians  who  inhabited  the  weftern  coaft  of 
Scotland,  Fingal  refented  the  behaviour  of  Cairbar,  and  refolved  to  pafs  over 
into  Ireland  with  an  army,  to  re-eftablifli  the  royal  family  on  the  Irifli  throne. 
Early  intelligence  of  his  defigns  coming  to  Cairbar,  he  affembled  lome  of  his 
tribes  in  Ulfler,  and  at  the  fame  time  ordered  his  brother  Cathmor  to  follow  him 
fpeedlly  with  an  army,  from  Temora.  Such  was  the  fituation  of  affairs  whea 
the  Caledonian  invaders  appeared  on  the  coaft  of  Ulfter. 

The  poem  opens  in  the  morning.  Cairbar  is  reprefented  as  retired  from  the 
reft  of  the  army,  when  one  of  his  fcouts  brought  him  news  of  the  landing  of 
Fingal.  He  aflembles  a  council  of  his  chiefs.  Foldath  the  chief  of  Moma 
haughtily  defpifes  the  enemy  ;  and  is  reprimanded  v/armly  by  Malthos.  Cairbar, 
after  hearing  their  debate,  orders  a  feaft  to  be  prepared,  to  which,  by  his  bard, 
Olla,  he  invites  Ofcar  the  fon  of  Offian  ;  refolving  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  that 
hero,  and  to  have  fome  pretext  for  killing  him.  Ofcar  came  to  the  feaft;  the 
tjuarrel  happened  ;  the  followers  of  both  fought,  and  Cairbar  and  Ofcar  fell  by 
mutual  wounds.  The  noife  of  the  battle  reached  Fmgal's  army.  The  king  came 
on,  toibe  relief  of  Ofcar,  and  the  Irifli  fell  back  to  the  army  of  Cathmor,  who 
Was  advanced  to  the  banks  of  the  river  Lubar,  on  the  heath  of  Moilena.  Fingal, 
after  mourning  over  his  grandfon,  ordered  Ullin  the  chief  of  his  bards  to  carry 
his  body  to  Moiven,  to  be  there  interred.  Night  coming  on,  Althan,  the  fon  of 
Conachar,  relates  to  the  king  the  particulars  of  the  murder  of  Cormac.  Fillan, 
the  fon  of  Fingal,  is  fent  to  obferve  the  motions  of  Cathmor  by  night,  which 
concludes  the  aflion  of  the  firft  day.  The  fcene  of  this  book  is  a  plain,  near 
the  hill  of  Mora,  which  rofe  on  the  borders  of  the  heath  of  Moilena,  in  Ulfter. 


E      M      O      R      A  : 


A  N 


EPIC        POEM, 
BOOK    I. 

THE  blue  waves  of  Erin  roll  In  light.  The  moun- 
tains are  covered  with  day.  Trees  fhake  their  duikj 
heads,  in  the  breeze.  Grey  torrents  pour  their  noify 
ftr earns.  Two  green  hills,  with  aged  oaks,  furround  a 
narrow"  plain.  The  blue  courfe  of  a  flream  is  there.  On 
its  banks  flood  Cairbar*  of  Atha.  His  fpear  fupports  the 
king  :  the  red  eye  of  his  fear  is  fad.  Cormac  rifes  in  his 
loul,  with  all  his  ghaflly  wounds.  The  grey  form  of  the 
youth  appears  in  darknefs.  Blood  pours  from  his  airy  fide. 
Cairbar  thrice  threw  his  fpear  on  earth.  Thrice  he  ftroak- 
ed  his  beard.  His  Heps  are  fhort.  He  often  flops.  He 
toifes  his  fmewy  arms.  He  is  like  a  cloud  in  the  defart, 
varying  its  form  to  every  blafl :  the  valleys  are  fad  around, 
and  fear,  by  turns,  the  fhower.  The  king,  at  length,  re- 
fumed  his  foul.  He  took  his  pointed  fpear.  He  turned  his 
eye  to  Moi-lena.  The  fcouts  of  blue  ocean  came.  They 
came,  with  fleps  of  fear,  and  often  looked  behind.  Cair- 
bar knew  that  the  mighty  were  near  !  He  called  his 
gloomy  chiefs. 

The  founding  fleps  of  his  warriors  came.     They  drew, 
at  once,  their  fwords.    There  Morlathf  flood,  with  dark- 
ened 

*  Cairbar,  the  fon  of  Borbar-duthul,  was  defccnded  lineally  from  Lathon  the 
chief  of  the  Fir-bloo;,  the  tirft  colony  who  fettled  in  the  fouth  of  Ireland.  The  Cael 
were  in  poffellion  of  the  northern  coaft  of  that  kingdom,  and  the  firft  monarchs  of 
Ireland  were  of  their  race.  H^nce  arofe  thofe  differences  between  the  two  nations, 
which  terminated,  at  laft,  in  the  murder  of  Cormac  and  the  ulurpation  of  Cairbar, 
lord  of  Atha,  who  is  mentioned  in  this  place. 

t  Mor-lath,  great  in  the  day  of  battle.  Hidalla',  mildly-looking  hero.  Cor-mar, 
expert  at  fea.     tAdMh-os,  Jlow  to /peak.     l^o\(\2.\.h,  generous. 

Foldath,  who  is  here  llrongly  marked,  makes  a  great  figure  in  the  feque!  of  the 
poem.  His  fierce,  uncomplying  charafter  is  fuOained  throughout.  He  leems, 
from  a  paffage  in  the  fecond  book,  to  have  been  Caii  bar's  gieatcfl  confidant,  and 
to  have  had  a  principal  hand  in  the  confpiracy  againft  Cormac  king  of  Ireland,  Hts 
tribe  was  one  of  the  moft  confiderabic  of  the  race  of  the  Fir-bloj. 


256 


T    E    M    O    R    A: 


ened  face.  HIdalla's  long  hair  fighs  in  wind.  Red-haired 
Cormar  bends  on  his  fpear,  and  rolls  his  fide-long-looking 
eyes.  Wild  is  the  look  of  Malthos,  from  beneath  two 
Ihaggy  brows.  Foldath  Hands,  like  an  oozy  rock,  that 
covers  its  dark  fides  with  foam.  His  fpear  is  like  Slimo- 
ra's  fir,  that  meets  the  wind  of  heaven  :  his  fhield  is 
marked  with  the  flrokes  of  battle  :  his  red  eye  defpifes 
danger.  Thefe,  and  a  thoiifand  other  chiefs,  furroundsd 
the  king  of  Erin,  when  the  fcout  of  ocean  came,  Mor- 
annai*,  from  flreamy  Moi-lena.  His  eyes  hang  forward 
from  his  face  :  his  lips  are  trembling,  pale  ! 

"  Do  the  chiefs  of  Erin  fland,"  he  faid,  "  filent  as 
the  grove  of  evening  ?  Stand  they,  like  a  filent  wood,  and 
Fingal  on  the  coaft  ?  Fingal,  who  is  terrible  in  battle, 
the  king  of  flreamy  Morven  !''  "  Haft  thou  feen  the 
warrior  ?"  faid  Cairbar,  with  a  figh.  "  Are  his  heroes 
many  on  the  coafl  ?  Lifts  he  the  fpear  of  battle  ?  Or 
comes  the  king  in  peace  ?'*  "  In  peace  he  comes  not, 
king  of  Erin.  I  have  feen  his  forward  fpear |.  It  is  a 
meteor  of  death.  The  blood  of  thoufands  is  on  its  fteel. 
He  came  firfl  to  the  fhore,  flrong  in  the  grey  hair  of  age. 
Full  rofe  his  finewy  limbs,  as  he  flrode  in  his  might. 
That  fword  is  by  his  fide,  which  gives  no  fecond||  wound. 
His  fliield  is  terrible,  like  the  bloody  moon,  afcending 
through  a  florm.  Then  came  OfTian  king  of  fongs.  Then 
Morni's  fon,  the  firfl  of  men.  Connal  leaps  forward  on 
his  fpear.  Dermid  fpreads  his  dark-brown  locks.  Fillan 
bends  his  bow,  the  young  hunter  of  flreamy  Moruth.  But 
v/ho  is  that  before  them,  like  the  terrible  courfe  of  a 
itream  !  It  is  the  fon  of  Offian,  bright  between  his  locks  ! 
His  long  hair  falls  on  his  back.  His  dark  brows  are  half- 
inclofed  in  fleel.    His  fword  hangs  loofe  on  his  fide.    His 

fpear 

*  M6r-anna],  flrojig-breath;  a  very  proper  name  for  a  fcout. 

t  Mor-annal  here  alludes  to  the  particular  appearance  of  Fingal's  fpear.  If  a 
man,  upon  his  firfl  landing  in  a  ftrange  country,  kept  the  point  of  his  fpear  for- 
ward, it  denoted  in  thofe  days  that  he  came  in  a  bollile  manner,  and  accordingly 
he  was  treated  as  an  enemy  ;  if  he  kept  the  point  behind  him,  it  was  a  token  of 
friendihip,  and  he  was  immediately  invited  to  the  feaft,  according  to  the  hofpitality 
of  the  times. 

[j  I'his  v/as  the  famous  fword  of  Fingal,  made  by  Luno,  a  fmith  of  Lochlin,  and 
after  him  poetically  called  the  fon  of  Luno:  it  is  faid  of  this  fword,  that  it  killed  a 
man  at  every  ftroke ;  and  that  Fingsl  never  ufcd  it  but  in  times  oi  the  gr*atell 
inncrei. 


Book  I.         An  EPIC   POEM.  257 

fpear  glitters  as  he  moves.    I  fled  from  his  terrible  eyes, 
king  of  high  Temora  !-' 

"  Then  fly,  thou  feeble  man,'*  faid  Foldath's  gloomy 
wrath.  "  Fly  to  the  grey  ftreams  of  thy  land,  fon  of  the 
little  foul !  Have  not  I  feen  that  Ofcar  ?  I  beheld  rhe  chief 
in  war.  He  is  of  the  mighty  in  danger :  but  there  are 
others  who  lift  the  fpear.  Erin  has  many  fons  as  brave, 
king  of  Temora  of  groves !  Let  Foldath  meet  him  in  his 
ftrength.  Let  me  flop  this  mighty  fl:ream.  My  fpear  is 
covered  with  blood.    My  fhield  is  like  the  wall  of  Tui  a !" 

"  Shall,  Foldath  *  alone  meet  the  foe  ?"  replied  the 
dark-browed  Malthos.  "  Are  they  not,  on  our  coaft,  like 
the  waters  of  many  llreams  ?  Are  not  thefe  the  chiefs, 
who  vanquilhed  Swaran,  when  the  fons  of  green  Erin  fled? 
Shall  Foldath  meet  their  braveft  hero  ?  Foldath  of  the 
heart  of  pride!  Take  the  ftrength  of  the  people!  and  let 
Malthos  come.  My  fword  is  red  with  flaughter,  but  who 
has  heard  my  words  f  ?" 

"  Sons  of  green  Erin,'*  faid  Hidalla  ||,  "  let  not  Fingal 
hear  your  words.  The  foe  migbt  rejoice,  and  his  arm  be 
ftrong  in  the  land.  Ye  are  brave,  O  warriors !  Ye  are 
tempells  in  war.  Ye  are  like  ftorms,  which  meet  the 
rocks  without  fear,  and  overturn  the  woods.  But  let  us 
move  in  our  ftrength,  flow  as  a  gathered  cloud !  Then 
fhall  the  mighty  tremble;  the  fpear  fliall  fall  from  the  hand 
of  the  valiant.  We  fee  the  cloud  of  death,  they  will  fay, 
while  fliadows  fly  over  their  face.  Fingal  will  mourn  in 
his  age.  He  fliall  behold  hirs  flying  fame.  The  fteps  of 
his  chiefs  will  ceafe  in  Morven.  The  mofs  of  years  fliall 
grow  in  Selma.'* 

Cairbar  heard  their  words,  in  filence,  like  the  cloud 
of  a  ftiower  :  it  ftands  dark  on  Cromla,  till  the  ligbj;nlng 
burfts  its  fide.    The  valley  gleams  with  heaven's  flarne  ; 

K  k  the 

*  The  oppofite  cliaraflers  of  Foldath  and  Malthos  are  firongly  reSrked  in  fubfe- 
quent  parts  of  the  poem.  They  appear  ab.\rays  in  oppcrfition.  The  ieuds  between 
»heir  families,  which  were  the  fource  of  tiieii  harred  to  one  another,  are  men.tioned 
in  other  poems. 

t  That  is,  who  has  heard  my  vaunting?  He  intended  the  expreffion  as  a  rebuke 
to  the  felf-praife  of  Foldath. 

(I  Hidalla  was  the  chief  of  Clonra,  a  fmall  diftricl  on  the  hanks  of  the  lake  of 
Lego.  The  beauty  of  bis  perjbn,  his  ^loquencs  «nd  genius  tor  postry,  are  af;«r-< 
^^ards  mentioned, 


258 


T    E    M    O    R    A: 


the  fpirits  of  the  ilorm  rejoice.  So  ftood  the  filent  king 
of  Temora  :  at  length  his  words  brake  forth.  "  Spread 
the  feail  on  Moi-!ena.  Let  my  hundred  bards  attend. 
Thou,  red-hair'd  Olla,  take  the  harp  of  the  king.  Go  td 
Oicar  chief  of  fwords.  Bid  Ofcar  to  our  joy.  To-day  we 
fcaftand  hear  the  fong:  to-morrow,  break  the  fpears!  Tell 
him  that  I  have  raifed  the  tomb  of  Cathol  *  ;  that  bards 
gave  his  friend  to  the  winds.  Tell  him  that  Cairbar  has 
heard  of  his  fame,  at  the  flream  of  refounding  Carun  f , 
Cathmof  j|  my  brother  is  not  here.  He  is  not  here  with 
his  thoufanck,  and  our  arms  are  weak.  Cathmor  is  a  foe 
to  ftrife  at  the  feafl !  His  foul  is  bright  as  that  fun  !  But 
Cairbar  mud  fight  with  Ofcar,  chiefs  of  the  woody  Te- 
mora! His  words  for  Cathol  were  many:  the  wrath  of 
Cairbar  burns.  He  fhall  fail  on  Moi-lena.  My  fame  fhall 
rife  in  blood." 

Their  faces  brightened  round  with  joy.  They  fpread 
over  Moi-lena.  The  feafl  of  fliells  is  prepared.  The  fongs 
of  bards  arife.    The  chiefs  of  Selma  heard  their' joy  §.    We 

thought 

*  Cathol  the  fon  of  Maronnan,  or  Moran,  was  murdered  by  Cairbar,  for  his  at- 
fachment  to  the  family  of  Cormac,  He  had  attended  Ofcar  to  the  war  of  his- 
thona,  where  they  contracted  a  great  fiiendfhip  for  one  another.  Olcar,  immedi- 
att'ly  after  the  dtah  of  Cathol,  had  fent  a  formal  challenge  to  Cairbar,  which 
he  prudently  declined,  but  rcnccived  a  fecret  hatred  againll  Ofcar,  and  liad  before* 
hand  connived  to  kill  him  at  the  feafl,  to  which  he  ht  c  invites  him. 

+  He  alludes  to  the  battle  of  Ofcar  agaiaft  Caros,  king  ofJJiips;  who  is  luppol- 
ed  to  be  the  fame  wnth  Caraufuis  the  ufurper. 

II  Cathmor,  great  in  battle,  the  fon  of  Borbar-duthul,  and  brother  of  Cairbar 
king  of  Ireland,  had,  before  the  infurrection  of  the  Firblog,  paffed  over  into  Inis- 
hupa,  fuppofed  to  be  a  part  of  South-Britain,  to  aififl  Conmor  king  of  that  place 
a  ■,al».<l  his  enemies,  Caihmtfi'  was  fuccefsful  in  the  war,  but,  in  the  courfe  of  ir, 
Coamor  was  either  killed,  or  died  a  natural  death.  Cairbar,  upon  intelligence  oi 
tb.e  defigns  ot  Fingai  to  dethrone  him,  had  difpatched  a  meflenger  for  Cathmoi, 
wiio  retuini-d  into  Ireland  a  few  days  before  the  opening  of  the  poem. 

Cairba:  here  takes  ?dvantage  of  his  brother's  abfence,  to  perpetriite  his  ungene- 
'roas  defigus  againR  Ofcar;  for  the  noble  fpirit  of  Cathmor,  had  he  been  piefcnt, 
would  not  have  permitted  the  laws  of  that  hofpitality,  for  which  he  was  fo  renown- 
cd  Inmfclf,  to  be  violated.  The  brothers  form  a  contraff  :  we  do  not  dcteft  the 
riH  in  foul  of  Cairbar  more,  than  we  admire  the  difinterefted  and  generous  mind  of 
C  thmor. 

^  Fmgal's  army  heard  the  joy  that  was  in  Cairbar's  camp.  The  cbarafter  given 
O'  Cathmor  is  aa;reeable  to  the  times.  Some,  through  oflentation,  were  hofpitable  ; 
a::;:  oth'M'S  fell  natu'ally  into  a  cuRom  handed  down  from  their  ancedors.  But  what 
n  .iks  llroiigly  the  character  of  Cathmor,  is  his  averiion  to  praife  ;  for  he  is  repre- 
r  itL-d  to  dwell  in  a  wood  to  avoid  the  thanks  of  his  gucfts;-whidi  is  ftill  a  higher 
degree  of  generoiity  than  that  of  A.xylus  iu  Homer;  for  the  poet  does  not  fay,  but 

the 


BookL  An.  epic    POEM.  259 

thought  that  mighty  Cathmor  came.  Cathmor,  the  friend 
of  ftrangers  !  the  brother  of  red-haired  Cairbar.  Xheir 
fouls  were  not  the  fame.  The  light  of  heaven  was  in  the 
bofom  of  Cathmor.  His  towers  rofe  on  the  banks  of  Atha: 
feven  paths  led  to  his  halls.  Seven  chiefs  flood  on  the 
paths,  and  called  the  ftranger  to  the  feaft  !  But  Cathmor 
dwelt  in  the  wood,  to  fliun  the  voice  of  praife ! 

Olla  came  with  his  fongs.  Ofcar  went  to  Cairbar's 
feaft.  Three  hundred  warriors  ftrode,  along  Moi-lena  of 
the  ftreams.  The  grey  dogs  bounded  on  the  heath  :  their 
howling  reached  afar.  Fingal  faw  the  departing  hero. 
The  foul  of  the  king  was  fad.  He  dreaded  Cairbar's  gloo- 
my thoughts,  amidft  the  feaft  of  ftiells.  My  fon  raifed  high 
the  fpear  of  Cormac.  An  hundred  bards  met  him  with 
fongs.  Cairbar  concealed,  with  fmiles,  the  death,  that  v/as 
dark  in  his  foul.  The  feaft  is  fpread.  The  fliells  refound. 
Joy  brightens  the  face  of  the  hoft.  But  it  was  like  the 
parting  beam  of  the  fun,  when  he  is  to  hide  his  red  head 
in  a  ftorm ! 

Cairbar  rifes  in  his  arms.  Darknefs  gathers  on  his 
brow.  Tl"fe  hundred  harps  ceafe  at  once.  The  clang  *  of 
fhields  is  heard.  Far  diftant  on  the  heath  Olla  raifed  a 
fong  of  woe.  My  fon  knew  the  fign  of  death  ;  and,  rifing, 
feized  his  fpear.  "  Ofcar,"  faid  the  dark-red  Cairbar, 
"  I  behold  the  fpear  f  of  Erin.     The  fpear   of  Temo- 

ra 

the  good  man  might,  zt  the  head  of  his  own  table,  have  heard  with  pleafure  the 
praife  beflowed  on  him  bv  the  people  he  entertained. 

No  nation  in  the  world  earned  hofpitality  to  a  greater  length  than  the  anci-^ 
ent  Scots.  It  was  even  infamous,  for  many  ages,  in  a  man  of  condition,  to  have 
the  door  of  his  houfe  fhut  at  r.li,  I(JI,  as  the  barcjs  exprefs  it,  the  Jlravge-)  Jhould 
come  and  behold  his  contraSlcd  foul.  Some  of  the  chiefs  were  poITeded  of  this  hof- 
pitable  difpofition  to  an  extravagant  degree;  and  the  bnrds,  perhaps  upon  a  pri- 
vate account,  never  failed  to  recommend  it,  in  their  eulogiums.  Cean  uid'  v.a  dai\ 
or  the  point  to  which  all  the  roads  of  the  Jlrangers  had,  wis  an  invariable  epithet  given 
by  them  to  the  chiefs;  on  the  contrary,  they  diftingLyfned  the  inhcfpitable  by  the 
title  of  the  cloud  which  the  flt angers  flmn.  This  l.ilf  however  was  lo  uncommon, 
"that  in  all  the  old  poems  I  have  ever  met  with,  1  foimd  but  one  man  branded  with 
^this  ignominious  appellation;  and  that,  perhaps,  only  founded  upon  a  pri\  ate  quar- 
rel, which  fubfifled  between  him  and  the  patron  of  the  bard,  who  wrote  tbe  poem, 

*  When  a  chief  was  determined  to  kill  a  perfon  already  in  his  power,  it  was 
u.'"ual  to  fignify,  that  his  death  was  intended,  by  the  found  of  a  fliield  iiruck  with 
the  blunt  end  of  a  fpear  :  at  the  fame  time  that  a  bard  at  a  diflance  railed  the  death, 
Jmg. 

t  Cormac,  the  fon  of  Arth,  had  given  the  fpear,  which  is  here  the  foundation 
of  the  quarrel,  to  Ofcar,  when  he  came  ta  congratulate  him,  upon  Swaran's  being 
expelled  from  Ireland. 


26o  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

ra  *  glitters  In  thy  hand,  fon  of  woody  Morven !  It  was 
the  pride  of  an  hundred f  kings  :  the  death  of  heroes  of 
old.  Yield  it,  fon  of  OlCan,  yield  it  to  car-borne  Cair- 
bar  !" 

"  Shall  I  yield,"  Ofcar  replied,  "  the  gift  of  Erin's 
injured  king  :  the  gift  of  fair-haired  Cormac,  when  Ofcar 
fcattered  his  foes  ?  I  came  to  Corrnac*s  halls  of  joy,  when 
Swaran  fled  from  Fingal.  Gladnefs  rofe  in  the  face  of 
youth.  He  gave  the  fpear  of  Temora.  Nor  did  he  give 
it  to  the  feeble :  neither  to  the  weak  in  foul.  The  dark- 
nefs  of  thy  face  is  no  florm  to  me :  nor  are  thine  eyes  the 
flame  of  death.  Do  I  fear  thy  clanging  fhield  ?  Tremble 
I  at  Olla's  fong  ?  No:  Cairbar,  frighten  the  feeble :  Ofcar 
is  a  rock !" 

"  Wilt  thou  not  yield  the  fpear?"  replied  the  rifmg 
pride  of  Cairbar.  "  Arc  thy  words  fo  mighty,  becaufe 
Fingal  is  near  ?  Fingal  with  aged  locks,  from  Morven's 
hundred  groves  !  He  has  fought  with  little  men.  But  he 
inulh  vaniih  before  Cairbar,  hke  a  thin  pillar  of  mift  be- 
fore the  winds  of  Atha  |]  !"  "  Were  he,  who  fought  with 
little  men,  near  Atha's  haughty  chief;  Atha*s  chief  would 
yield  green  Erin,  to  avoid  his  rage  !■  Speak  not  of  the 
mighty,  O  Cairbar  |  Turn  thy  fword  on  me.  Our 
ftrength  is  equal :  but  Fingal  is  renowned  !  the  firft  of 
mortal  men  !" 

Their  people  faw  the  darkening  chiefs.  Their  crowd- 
ing fleps  are  heard  around.  Their  eyes  roll  in  fire.  A 
thoufand  fwords  are  half  unfheathed.  Red-haired  Olla 
raifed  the  fong  of  battle.  The  trembling  joy  of  Ofcar's 
foul  arofe:  the  wonted  joy  of  his  foul,  when  FingaPs  horn 
was  heard.  Dark  as  the  fwelling  wave  of  ocean  before 
the  rifing  winds,  when  it  bends  its  head  near  the  coaft, 
came  on  the  hoil  of  Cairbar ! 

Daughter 

*  Ti'  mor-i',  the  kaufe  of  the  great  king,  the  name  of  the  royal  palace  of  the  fu- 
preme  kir.gs  of  Ireland. 

t  Hundred  here  is  an  indefinite  number,  and  is  only  intended  to  exprefs  a  great 
inany.  It  was  probably  the  hyperbolical  phrafes  of  bards,  that  gave  the  firft  hint 
to  the  Liru  Senachies  to  place  the  origin  of  their  monarchy  in  fo  remote  a  period  as 
they  have  done. 

[j  Athz; //iailow  river:  the  name  of  Cairbar's  feat  in  Connaught. 


Book  I.         An   EPIC   POEM.  261 

Daughter  of  Tofcar  *  !  why  that  tear?  He  is  not 
fallen  yet.  Many  were  the  deaths  of  his  arm  before  my 
hero  fell ! 

Behold  they  fall  before  my  fon,  like  groves  in  the  de- 
fart  ;  when  an  angry  ghoft  ruflies  through  night,  and 
takes  their  green  heads  in  his  hand  ! — Morlath  falls.  Ma- 
ronnan  dies.  Conachar  trembles  in  his  blood  !  Cairbar 
fhrinks  before  Ofcar's  fword !  He  creeps  in  darknefs  be- 
hind a  ftone.  He  lifts  the  fpear  in  fecret :  he  pierces  my 
Ofcar*s  fide  !  He  falls  forward  on  his  fhieid :  his  knee 
fuftains  the  chief.  But  ftill  his  fpear  is  in  his  hand.  See, 
gloomy  Cairbar  f  falls !  The  fteel  pierced  his  forehead, 
and  divided  his  red  hair  behind.  He  lay,  like  a  fhattcrcd 
rock,  which  Cromla  fliakes  from  its  fliaggy  fide ;  when 
the  green  vallied  Erin  fhakes  its  mountains  from  fea  to  fea! 

But 

*  Malvlna,  the  daughter  of  Tofcar,  to  whom  is  addrefled  that  part  of  the  poem 
which  rekted  to  the  death  of  Ofcar  her  lover. 

+  T4ie  Irifh  hiftorians  place  the  deatli  of  Cairbar,  in  the  latter  end  of  the  third 
century:  they  fay,  he  was  killed  in  battle  a^ainft  Ofcar  the  fon  of  Offian,  but  they 
deny  that  he  fell  by  his  hand. 

It  is,  however,  certain,  that  the  Iiilh  bards  difguife,  in  fome  meafure,  this  part 
of  their  hiflory.  An  Iridi  poem  on  this  fubjecl,  which,  undoubtedly,  was  the  fource 
of  their  information,  concerning  the  battle  of  G.ibhra,  where  Cairbar  fell,  is  juft 
now  in  my  hands.  As  a  tranllation  of  the  poem  (which,  though  evidently  no  very 
ancient  compofition,  does  not  want  poetical  merit)  weuld  extend  this  note  to  too 
great  a  length,  I  fliall  only  give  the  ftory  of  it  in  brief,  with  fome  extracts  from 
the  original  Irilh. 

Ofcar,  fays  the  Irifh  bard,  was  invited  to  a  feaft,  at  Tcmora,  by  Cairbar  king 
of  Ireland,  A  difpute  arofe  between  the  two  heroes,  concerning  the  exchange  of 
fpears,  which  was  ufiially  made,  between  the  guefls  and  their  hoft,  upon  fuch  oc- 
cafions.  In  the  courfe  of  their  altercation,  Caitbar  laid,  in  a  boaftful  manner,  that 
he  would  hunt  on  the  hills  of  Albion,  and  carry  the  fpoils  of  it  into  Ireland,  ia 
fpite  of  all  the  efforts  of  its  inhabitants.     The  original  words  are : 

Briathar  buan  fin ;  Briathar  buan 

A  bheireadh  an  Cairbre  rua', 

Gu  tuga'  fe  fealg,  agus  creach 

A  h^  Albin  an  la'r  na  mhaireach. 
Ofcar  replied,  that,  the  next  day,  he  himfelf  would  carry  into  Albion  the  fpoik  of 
the  five  provinces  of  Ireland,  in  fpite  of  the  oppofition  of  Cairbar. 

Briathar  tile  an  aghai'  fin 

A  bheirca'  an  t'  Ofcar,  og,  calma 

Gu'n  tugadh  fe  fealg  agus  creach 

Do  dh'  Albin  an  la'r  na  mhaireach,  &c, 
Ofcar,  in  confequence  of  his  threats,  began  to  lay  wafle  Ireland.;  but  as  he  return- 
ed with  the  fpoii  into  UHler,  thro'  the  narrow  pafs  of  Gabhra  {Caoil ghlm  Ghabhrd) 
he  was  met,  by  Cairbar,  and  a  battle  enfucd,  in  which  both  the  heroes  fell  by  mu- 
tual wounds.  The  bard  gives  a  very  curious  lift  of  the  followers  of  Ofcar,  as  they 
marched  to  battle.  They  appear  to  have  been  five  hundred  in  number,  commanded, 
as  the  poet  cxprefles  it,  h^j  jive  heroes  af  the  blocd of  kings..  This  poem  mentions 
Fingal,  as  arriving  from  Scotland,  before  Ofcar  died  of  his  wounds. 


o(S2  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

Eur  never  more  fliall  Ofcar  rife  1  He  leans  on  his  bof- 
fy  fliield.  His  fpear  is  in  his  terrible  hand.  Erin's  fons 
iiand  diftant  and  dark.  Their  fliouts  arife  like  crouded 
ftreams.  Moi-lena  echoes  wide.  Fingal  iieard  the  found. 
He  took  the  fpear  of  Selma.  His  fteps  are  before  us  on 
the  heath.  He  fpoke  the  words  of  woe.  "  I  hear  the 
noife  of  war.  Young  Ofcar  is  alone.  Rife,  fons  of  Mor- 
ven  :  join  the  hero's  fword  !" 

OssiAN  ruflied  along  the  heath.  Fillan  bounded  over 
Moirlena.  Fingal  ftrode  in  his  ftrength.  The  light  of  his 
fliield  is  terrible.  The  fons  of  Erin  faw  it  far  diftant. 
They  trembled  in  their  fouls.  They  knew  that  the  wrath 
of  the  king  arofe;  and  they  forefaw  their  death.  We  firfl 
arrived.  We  fought.  Erin's  chiefs  withftood  our  rage. 
But  when  the  king  came,  in  the  found  of  his  courfe,  what 
heart  of  Heel  could  ftand!  Erin  fled  over  Moi-lena.  Death 
purfued  their  flight.  We  faw  Ofcar  on  his  fliield.  We 
faw  his  bloood  around.  Silence  darkened  every  face. 
Each  turned  his  back,  and  wept.  The  king  ftrove  to  hide 
his  tears.  His  grey  beard  whiffled  in  the  wind.  He  bends 
his  head  above  the  chief.  His  words  are  mixed  with  fighs. 
"  Art  thou  fallen,  O  Ofcar,  in  the  midfl  of  thy  courfe? 
The  heart  of  the  aged  beats  over  thee !  He  fees  thy  com- 
ing wars !  The  wars,  which  ought  to  come,  he  fees  !  They 
are  cut  off  from  thy  fame  !  When  fliall  joy  dv/ell  at  Sel- 
ma ?  When  fliall  grief  depart  from  Morven  ?  My  fons  fall 
by  degrees :  Fingal  is  the  la(l  of  his  race.  My  fame  be- 
gins to  pafs  away.  Mine  age  will  be  without  friends.  I 
fliall  fit,  a  grey  cloud,  in  my  hall.  I  fhall  not  hear  the 
return  of  a  fon,  in  his  founding  arms.  Weep,  ye  heroes 
of  Morven  !   never  more  fhall  Ofcar  rife  !" 

And  rliey  did  weep,  O  Fingal !  Dear  was  the  hero  to 
their  fouls.  He  went  out  to  battle,  and  the  foes  vaniflied. 
He  returned,  in  peace,  amidft  their  joy.  No  father  mourn- 
ed his  fon  flain  in  youth:  no  brother,  his  brother  of  love. 
They  fell  without  tears,  for  the  chief  of  the  people  is  low  ! 
Bran  *  is  hov/ling  at  his  feet :  gloomy  Luath  is  fad  ;  for 
he  had  often  led  them  to  the  chace ;  to  the  bounding  roe 
of  the  defart ! 

When 

*  Bran  was  one  of  Fingal's  dogs,     hraa  f^gm^-ics  a  mountain-JIream. 


i 


BookL  An  epic    POEM.  263 

When  Ofcar  faw  his  friends  around,  his  heaving  bread 
arofe.  "  The  groans,"  he  faid,  "  of  aged  chiefs :  the 
howling  of  my  dogs :  the  fudden  burfls  of  the  fong  of  grief, 
have  melted  Ofcar's  foul :  my  foul,  that  never  melted  be- 
fore. It  was  like  the  fleel  of  my  fword.  Ofiian,  carry  me 
to  my  hills  !  Raife  the  (tones  of  my  renown.  Place  the 
horn  of  a  deer:  place  my  fword,  by  my  fide.  The  torrent 
hereafter  may  raife  the  earth  :  the  hunter  may  find  the- 
ileel,  and  fay,  This  has  been  Ofcar^s  fword,  the  pride  of 
other  years  !"  "  Failed  thou,  fon  of  my  fame  !  Shall  I 
never  fee  thee,  Ofcar !  When  others  hear  of  their  fons  ; 
fliall  I  not  hear  of  thee  ?  The  mofs  is  on  thy  four  grey 
(tones.  The  mournful  wind  is  there.  The  battle  (liall  be 
fought  without  thee.  Thou  flialt  not  purfue  the  dark- 
brown  hinds.  When  the  warrior  returns  from  battles, 
and  tells  of  other  lands;  "  I  have  feeil  a  tomb,"  he  will 
fay,  "  by  the  roaring  (tream,  the  dark  dwelling  of  a  chief. 
He  fell  by  car-borne  Ofcar,  the  firft  of  mortal  men."  I, 
perhaps,  (liall  hear  his  voice.  A  beam  of  joy  will  rife  in 
my  foul.'* 

Night  would  have  defcended  in  forrow,  and  morning 
returned  in  the  (liadow  of  grief.  Our  chiefs  would  have 
ftood,  like  cold  dropping  rocks  on.  Moi-lena,  and  have 
forgot  the  war ;  did  not  the  king  difperfe  his  grief,  and 
raife  his  mighty  voice.  The  chiefs,  as  new-v/akened  from 
dreams,  lift  up  their  heads  around. 

"  How  long  on  Moi-lena  (hall  we  weep  ?  How  long 
pour  in  Erin  our  tears  ?  The  mighty  v/ill  not  return.  Of- 
car fliall  not  rife  in  his  ftrength.  The  valiant  mutl  fall  in 
their  day,  and  be  no  more  known  on  their  hills.  Where 
are  our  fathers,  O  warriors !  the  chiefs  of  the  times  of 
old  ?  They  have  fet,  like  (tars  that  have  (hone.  We  only 
hear  the  found  of  their  praife.  But  they  were  renowned 
in  their  years  :  the  terror  of  other  times.  Thus  Inall  we 
pafs  away,  in  the  day  of  our  fall.  Then,  let  us  be  re- 
nowned when  we  may,  and  leave  our  fame  behind  us  ; 
like  the  laft  beams  of  the  fun,  when  he  hides  his  red  head 
in  the  v/efl  :  the  traveller  mourns  his  abfsnce,  thinking 
of  the  flame  of  his  beams.  Ullin,  my  aged  bard  !  take 
thou  the  fliip  of  the  king.    Carry  Ofcar  to  Scima  of  harpj. 

Let 


2^4  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

Let  the  daughters  of  Morven  weep  :  we  muil  fight  in 
Erin,  for  the  race  of  fallen  Cormac.  The  days  of  my 
years  begin  to  fail.  I  feel  the  weaknefs  of  my  arm.  My 
fathers  bend  from  their  clouds,  to  receive  their  grey- 
hair'd  fon.  But,  before  I  go  hence,  one  beam  of  fame 
iliall  rife.  My  days  fhall  end,  as  my  years  begun,  in  fame. 
My  life  ihall  be  one  ftreara  of  light,  to  bards  of  other 
times !" 

Ullin  rais'd  his  white  fails.  The  wind  of  the  fouth 
came  forth.  He  bounded  on  the  waves  toward  Selma.  I 
remained  in  my  grief,  but  my,  words  were  not  heard.  The 
feafl  is  fpread  on  Moi-lena.  An  hundred  heroes  reared 
the  tomb  of  Cairbar.  No  fong  is  raifed  over  the  chief. 
His  foul  had  been  dark  and  bl-oody.  The  bards  remem- 
bered the  fall  of  Cormac !  what  could  they  fay  in  Cairbar's 
praife  ? 

Night  came  rolling  down.  The  light  of  an  hundred 
oaks  arofe.  Fingal  fat  beneath  a  tree.  Old  Althan  *  flood 
in  the  midfl.  He  told  the  tale  of  fallen  Cormac.  Althan 
the  fon  of  Conachar,  the  friend  of  car-borne  Cuthullin. 
He  dwelt  with  Cormac  in  windy  Temora,  when  Semo's 
fon  fell  at  Lego's  flream.  The  tale  of  Althan  was  mourn- 
ful.   The  tear  was  in  his  eye,  when  he  fpoke. 

I  "  The  fetting  fun  v/as  yellow  on  Dora  ||.  Grey  even- 
ing began  to  defcend.  Temora's  woods  fhook  with  the 
blafl  of  the  unconftant  wind.  A  cloud  gathered  in  the 
weft.  A  red  ftar  looked  from  behind  its  edge.  I  flood  in 
the  vv^ood  alone.  I  faw  a  ghoil  on  the  darkening  air!  His 
ftride  extended  from  hill  to  hill.  His  fhield  was  dim  on 
his  fide.  It  was  the  fon  of  Semo.  I  knew  the  warri- 
or's face.  But  he  paiTed  avi^ay  in  his  blaft;  and  all  was  daik 
around!  My  foul  was  fad.  I  went  to  the  hall  of  fhells.  A 
thoufand  lights  arofe.  The  hundred  bards  had  flrung  the 
harp.  Cormac  flood  in  the  midll,  like  the  morning  flar, 
when  it  rejoices  on  the  eaflern  hill,  and  its  young  beams 

are 

*  AUhao,  tiie  fon  of  Conachar,  was  the  chief  bard  of  Arth  kins;  of  Ireland,  After 
the  death  of  Arth,  Althan  attended  his  foa  Cormac,  and  was  prefent  at  his  death. 
He  hzd  made  his  efcape  from  Cairbar,  by  n.eans  of  Cathmor,  and  coming  to  Fin- 
gal,' related,  as  here,  the  death  of  his  mafier  Cormac. 

t   Ahhan  fpeaks. 

il  Do'ia,  tke  woody  Jide  of  a  mountain;  it  is  hwe  a  liili  in  the  neighbourjiood  of 
;'jmora. 


Book  I.  An   EPIC    POEM.  265. 

are  bathed  in  fliowers.  Bright  and  filent  is  its  progreis 
alcft,  but  the  cloud,  that  lliaJI  hide  it,  is  near  !  The  fvvord 
of  Artho  -  was  in  the  hand  of  the  king.  He  looked  with 
joy  •  v;  ::s  poHfhed  ftuds  :  thrice  he  attempted  to  draw  it, 
:  ..d  Lnrice  he  failed:  his  yellow  locks  are  fpread  on  his 
ihoulders:  his  cheeks  of  youth  are  red.  I  mourned  over 
the  beam  of  youth,  for  he  was  foon  to  fet ! 

"  Althan  !"  he  faid,  with  a  fmiie,  "  didiT:  thou  be- 
hold my  father  ?  Heavy  is  the  fword  of  the  king  ;  furely 
his  'dtm.  was  flrong.  O  that  I  were  like  him  in  battle, 
when  the  rage  of  his  wrath  arofe !  then  would  I  have  met, 
with  Cuthwilin,  the  car-borne,  fon  of  Cantela  !  But  years 
may  come  on,  O  Althan !  and  my  arm  be  ftrong.  Haft 
thou  heard  of  Semo's  fon,  the  ruler  of  high  Temora  ?  Fie 
might  have  returned  v/ith  his  fame.  He  promifed  to  re- 
turn to-night.  My  bards  wait  him  with  fongs.  My  fead 
is  fpread  in  the  hall  of  kings." 

"  I  HEARD  Cormac  in  filence.  My  tears  began  to  flov/. 
I  hid  them  with  my  aged  locks.  The  king  perceived,  my 
grief.  "  Son  of  Conachar  V*  he  faid,  "  is  the  fon  of  Se- 
mo  f  low  ?  Whv  burfts  the  figh  in  fecret  ?  Why  de- 
fcends  the  tear  ?  Comes  the  car-borne  Torlath  ?  Comes 
the  found  of  red-haired  Cairbar  ?  They  come  !  for  1  be- 
hold thy  grief.  Moiiy  Tura's  chief  is  low  1  Shall  I  not 
rufli  to  battle  ?  But  I  cannot  lift  the  fpear  1  O  had  mine 
arm  the  flrength  of  Cuthullin,  foon  would  Cairbar  iiy  : 
the  fame  of  my  fathers  would  be  rcixewed  ;  and  the  deeds 
of  other  times  1" 

"  He  took  his  bow.  The  tears  flow  down  from  both 
his  fparkling  eyes.  Grief  faddens  round.  The  bards  ben.d 
forward,  frgm  their  hundred  harps.  The  lone  blaft  touch- 
ed their  trembling  firings.  The  found  |j  is  fad  and  low! 
A  voice  is  heard  at  a  diitance,  as  of  one  in  grief.  It  was 
Carril  of  other  times,  who  came  from  dark  Slimora|j.    He 

LI  told 

*  Arth,  or  Artho,  the  father  of  Cormac  king  of  Ireland. 

f  Cuthuliin  is  called  the  king  of  Tura  from  a  caftle  of  that  name  on  the  coafl  of 
Ulfter,  where  he  dwelt,  before  he  undertook  tlxe  management  of  the  afiairs  O'  Ire- 
land, in  the  minority  of  Cormac. 

II  That  prophetic  found,  mentioned  hi  oiber  poems,  v  inch  the  harps  oi  'he 
bards  emitted  before  the  death  of  a  perfon  worthy  and  renowned.  It  is  here  an 
omc  r,  of  the  death  oi  Cormac,  which  foon  after  foiiowe.H. 

^  Siimera,  a  hill  in  Connaiight,  near  which  CuthuUin  was  killed. 


266'  T    E    M    O    R    A  : 

told  of  the  fall  of  Cuthullin.  He  told  of  his  mighty  deeds. 
The  people  were  fcattered  round  the  tomb.  Their  arms 
iay  on  the  ground.  They  had  forgot  the  war  ;  for  hcj 
their  fire,  was  feen  no  more  ! 

"But  who/'  faid  the  foft-vojced  Carril,  "  who  come 
like  bounding  roes  ?  Their  ftature  is  like  young  trees  in 
the  valley,  growing  in  a  fhov/er  !  Soft  and  ruddy  are  their 
cheeks  !  Fearlefs  fouls  look  forth  from  their  eyes  !  Who, 
but  the  fons  of  Ufnoth*,  chief  of  ftreamy  Etha  ?  The 
people  rife  on  every  fide,  like  the  ftrength  of  an  half- 
extinguifhed  fire,  when  the  v^^inds  come,  fudden,  from  the 
defart,  on  their  ruftling  wings.  Sudden  glov/s  the  dark 
brow  of  the  hill :  the  palling  mariner  lags,  on  his  winds. 
The  found  of  Caithbat*s|  lliield  was  heard.  The  warriors 
faw  Cuthullin  ]|  in  Nathos.  So  rolled  his  fparkling  eyes  ! 
his  fteps  were  fuch  on  heath! — Battles  are  fought  at  Lego. 
The  fword  of  Nathos  prevails.  Soon  Ihalt  thou  behold 
him  in  thy  halls,  king  of  Temora  of  groves  !" 

"  Soon  may  I  behold  the  chief!'*  replied  the  blue-eyed 
king.  "  But  my  foul  is  fad  for  Cuthullin.  His  voice  was 
pleafant  in  mine  ear.  Often  have  we  moved,  on  Dora,  to 
the  chace  of  the  dark-brown  hinds.  His  bow  \Vas  unerr- 
ing on  the  hills.  He  fpoke  of  mighty  men.  He  told  of 
the  deeds  oi  my  fathers.  I  felt  my  rifing  joy.  But  fit 
thou  at  the  feaft,  O  Carril :  I  have  often  heard  thy  voice. 
Sing  in  praife  of  Cuthullin.    Sing  of  Nathos  of  Etha§  !" 

"  Day  rofe  on  Temora,  with  all  the  beams  of  the  eaft. 
Crathin  came  to  the  hall,  the  fon  of  old  Gellama^.    "  I 

behold," 

*  Ufnoth,  chief  of  Etha,  a  diflrift  on  the  weftern  coaft  of  Scotland,  had  three 
fons,  Nathos,  Ahhos,  and  Ardan,  by  Slifiama  the  fifler  of  Cuthullin.  The  three 
brothers,  when  very  young,  v.'ere  fent  over  to  Ireland  by  their  father,  to  learn  the 
ufe  of  arms  under  their  uncle,  whofe  military  fame  was  very  great  in  that  kingdom. 
They  had  juft  arrived  in  Ulfter  when  tjie  news  of  Cuthullin's  death  arrived.  Na- 
thos, the  eldeft  of  the  three  brothers,  took  the  command  of  Cuthullin's  army,  and 
made  head  againft  Ciirbar  the  chief  of  Atlia.  Cairbar  having,  at  lafl,  murdered 
young  kihg  Cormac,  at  Temora,  the  army  of  Nathos  fhifted  fides,  and  the  bro- 
thers were  obliged  to  return  into  Ulfler,  in  order  to  pafs  over  into  Scotland.  The 
fequel  of  their  mpurnful  Oory  is  related,  at  large,  in  the  poem  of  Dar-thula. 

t  Caithbat  was  grandfather  to  Cuthullin  ;  and  his  fhield  was  made  ufe  of  to 
alarm  his  pollerity  to  the  battles  of  his  family. 

11  That  is,  they  faw  a  manifelt  likcnefs  between  the  peifcn  of  Nathos  and  Cu= 
thuUin. 

i)  Nathos,  the  fon  of  Ufnoth. 

f  Geal-lamha,  u'/cite  /landed. 


Book  I.  An  EPlfc   POEM.  267 

behold,"  he  faid,  "  a  cloud  in  the  defart,  king  of  Erin  ! 
a  cloud  it  feemed  at  firft,  but  now  a  croud  of  men  !  One 
ftrides  before  them  in  his  flrength.  His  red  hair  flies  in 
wind.  His  fhield  glitters  to  the  beam  of  the  eaft.  His 
fpear  is  in  his  hand."  "  Call  him  to  the  feaft  of  Temora," 
replied  the  brightening  king.  "  My  hall  is  the  houfe  of 
flrangers,  fon  of  generous  Gellama !  It  is  perhaps  the 
chief  of  Etha,  coming  in  all  his  renown. — Hail,  mighty* 
flranger !  art  thou  of  the  friends  of  Cormac  ? — But,  Car- 
ril,  he  is  dark,  and  unlovely.  He  draws  his  fwcrd.  Is 
that  the  fon  of  Ufnoth,  bard  of  the  times  of  old  r" 

"  It  is  not  the  fon  of  Ufnoth  !"  faid  CarriL  "  It  is 
Cairbar  thy  foe. — Why  comeft  thou  in  thy  arms  to  Te- 
mora ?  chief  of  the  gloomy  brow.  Let  not  thy  fword  rife 
againff  Cormac  !  Whither  dofl  thou  'turn  thy  fpeed  ?'* 
He  pafled  on  in  darknefs.  He  feized  the  hand  of  the  king. 
Cormac  forefaw  his  death  :  the  rage  of  his  eye^y  arofe. 
"  Retire,  th6u  chief  of  Atha  !  Nathos  comes  with  war. 
Thou  art  bold  in  Cormac's  hall,  for  his  arm  is  weak." 
The  fword  entered  the  fide  of  the  king.  He  fell  in  the 
halls  of  his  fathers.  Plis  fair  hair  is  in  the  duft.  His 
blood  is  fmoking  round. 

"  Art  thou  fallen  in  thy  halls f  ?"  faid  Carril,  "  O  fon 
of  noble  Artho  !  The  fliield  of  Cuthullin  was  not  near  ; 
nor  the  fpear  of  thy  father.  Mournful  are  the  mountains 
of  Erin  ;  for  the  chief  of  the  people  is  low  !  Bleft  be  thy 
foul,  O  Cormac  !  thou  art  darkened  in  thy  youth." 

"  His  words  came  to  the  ears  of  Cairbar.  He  clofed  |j 
us  in  the  midfl  of  darkiiefs.  He  feared  to  flretch  his  iword 
to  the  bards  §,  though  his  foul  was  dark.  Long  we  pined 
alone  !    At  length,  the  noble  Cathmor  ^came.    He  heard 

our 

*  Prom  this  exprefTion,  we  underftand,  that  Cairbar  had  entered  the  palace  of 
Temora,  in  the  midft  of  Cormac's  fpeech. 

t  Ahhan  fpeaks. 

II  That  is,  himfelf  and  Carril,  a$  it  afterwards  appears, 

^  The  perfons  of  the  bards  were  fo  facrcd,  that  even  he,  who  hadjufl  murdered 
his  fovereign,  feared  to  kill  them. 

5  Cathmor  appears  the  fame  difinterefied  hero  upon  every  occaiion.  His  hu- 
manity and  generofitv  were  unparalleled:  in  fiiort,  he  had  no  fault,  but  too  much 
attachment  to  fo  bad  a  brother  as  Cairbar.  His  family  connettion  with  Cairbar 
prevails,  as  he  expreffes  it,  over  every  other  confideration,  and  makes  him  engage 
.'1  a  war.  of  which  he  docs  not  approve. 


o68  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

our  voice  from  the  cave.  He  turned  the  eye  of  his  wrath 
on  Ciiirbar. 

"  Brother  of  Cathmor,"  he  faid,  "  how  long  wilt 
thou  pain  my  foul?  Thy  heart  is  a  ,rock:  thy  thoughts 
are  dark  and  bloody.  But  thou  art  the  brother  of  Cath* 
mor  ;  and  Cathmor  fnall  fiiine  in  thy  war.  But  my  fcul 
is  not  like  thine,  thou  feeble  hand  in  fight  !  The  light  of 
my  bcrom  is  fccined  with  thy  deeds.  Bards  will  not  fmg 
of  my  renown  :  they  may  fay,  "  Cathmor  was  brave,  but 
he  fought  for  gloomy  Cairbar."  They  will  pafs  over  my 
tomb  in  filence.  My  fame  (liall  not  be  heard.  Cairbar  ! 
loofe  the  bards.  They  are  the  fons  of  future  times.  Their 
voice  (hall  be  heard  in  other  years  ;  after  the  kings  of  Te- 
mora  have  failed."  We  came  forth  at  the  words  of  the 
chief.  We  faw  him  in  his  (Irength.  He  was  like  thy 
youth,  O  Fingal,  when  thou  firll  didli;  lift  the  fpear.  His 
face  was  like  the  plain  of  the  fun,  when  it  is  bright.  No 
darknefs  travelled  over  his  brow.  But  he  came  with  his 
thoufands  to  aid  the  red-haired  Cairbar.  Now  he  comes 
to  revenge  his  death,  O  king  of  woody  Morven." 

"  Let  Cathmor  come,"  replied  the  king.  "  I  love  a 
foe  fo  great.  His  foul  is  bright.  His  arm  is  ilrong.  His 
battles  are  full  of  fame.  But  the  little  foul  is  a  vapour, 
that  hovers  round  the  marlhy  lake.  It  never  rifes  on  the 
green  hill,  left  the  winds  Ihould  meet  it  there.  Its  dwell- 
ing is  in  the  cave  :  it  fends  forth  the  dart  of  death  !  Our 
young  heroes,  O  warriors,  are  like  the  renov/n  of  our 
fathers.  They  fight  in  youth.  They  fall.  Their  names 
are  in  fong.  Fingal  is  amid  his  darkening  years.  He  mufl 
not  fall,  as  an  aged  oak,  acrofs  a  fecret  ftream.  Near  it 
are  the  fteps  of  the  hunter,  as  it  lies  beneath  the  wind. 
"  Hov/  has  that  tree  fallen  ?"  he  fays,  and,  whiftling, 
ftrldes  along.  Raife  the  fong  of  joy,  ye  bards  of  Morven. 
Let  our  fonls  forget  the  paft.  The  red  ilars  look  on  us 
from  clouds,  and  filently  defcend.  Soon  fliall  the  grey 
beam  of  the  morning  rife,  and  ftew  us  the  foes  of  Cor- 
maj.  Fillan  !  my  fon,  take  thou  the  fpear  of  the  king. 
Go  to  Mora's  dark-browli  fide.  Let  thine  eyes  travel  over 
the  heath.  Obferve  the  foes  of  Finsal:  obferve  the  courfe 
of  generous  Cathmor.    I  hear  a  diftant  found,  like  falling 

rocks 


Book  I.  An   E  P I C   P  O  E  M.  269 

rocks  in  the  defart.  But  ftrike  thou  the  fliield,  at  tiraes, 
thit  they  may  not  come  through  night,  and  the  fame  of 
Morven  ceafe.  I  begin  to  be  alone,  my  fon.  I  dread  the 
fall  of  my  renown  :" 

The  voice  of  bards  arofe.  The  king  leaned  on  the 
fllield  of  Trenmor,  Sleep  defcended  on  his  eyes.  His 
future  battles  arofe  in  his  dreams.  The  hoil  are  fieepinc^ 
around.  Dark- haired  Fillan  obferves  the  foe.  Kis  iteps 
are  on  a  diftant  hill.  We  hear,  at  times,  his  clanginc^ 
ftield. 


T  E  M  ;  ■• 


T      E      M      O      R      A 


A  N 

EPIC        POEM. 
BOOK     11. 


ARGUMENT. 


THIS  book  opens,  we  may  fuppofe,  about  midnight,  with  a  follloquy  of  Oflia^i, 
who  had  retired  from  the  reft  of  the  army,  to  mourn  for  his  fon  Ofcar.  Upon 
hearing  the  noife  of  Cathmor's  army  approaching,  he  went  to  find  out  his  bro- 
ther Fillan,  who  kept  the  watch,  on  the  hill  of  Mora,  in  the  front  of  Fingal's 
army.  In  the  converfation  of  the  brothers,  the  epifode  of  Conar,  the  fon  of 
Trenmor,  who  was  the  firfl:  king  of  Ireland,  is  introduced,  which  lays  open  the 
origin  of  the  contefls  between  the  Gael  and  Firblog,  the  two  nations  who  firft 
pofTefled  themfelves  of  that  ifland.  Offian  kindle*  a  fire  on  Mora ;  upon  which 
Cathmor  defifted  from  the  defign  he  had  formed  of  furprifing  the  army  of  the 
Caledonians.  He  calls  a  council  of  his  chiefs  ;  reprimands  Jfoldath  for  advifir.g 
a  night-attack,  as  the  Irifli  army  were  fo  much  fuperior  in  number  to  the  enemy. 
The  bard  Fonar  introduces  the  ftory  of  Crothar,  the  anceftor  of  the  king,  which 
ihrows  further  light  on  the  hiflory  of  Ireland,  and  the  original  pretenfions  of  the 
family  of  Atha,  to  the  throne  of  that  kingdom.  The  Irifh  chiefs  lie  down  to 
reft,  and  Cathmor  himfelf  undertakes  the  watch.  In  his  circuit,  round  the  ar- 
my, he  is  met  by  OITian.  The  interview  of  the  two  heroes  is  defcribed.  Cath- 
mor obtains  a  promife  from  0(fian,  to  order  a  funeral  elegy  to  be  fung  over  the 
grave  of  Cairbar;  it  being  the  opinion  of  the  times,  that  the  fouls  of  the  dead 
could  not  be  happv,  till  their  elegies  were  fung  by  a  bard.  Morning  comes. 
Cathmor  and  Oflian  part  j  and  the  latter,  cafually  meeting  with  Carril  the  fon 
of  Kinfena,  fends  that  bard,  with  a  funeral  fong,  to  the  tomb    f  Cairbar. 

^"IT^ATHER  of  heroes'!    O  Trenmor!    high  dweller 

JO    of  eddying  winds  !    where  the  dark-red  thunder 

marks  the  troubled  clouds  !  open  thou  thy  ftormy  halls. 

Let  the  bards  of  old  be  near.    Let  them  draw  near,  with 

fongs, 

*  Though  thisibook  has  little  aftion,  it  is  not  the  leaft  important  part  of  Temora, 
The  poet,  in  fevera!  epifodes,  runs  up  the  caufe  of  the  war  to  the  very  fource.  The 
firft  population  of  Ireland,  the  wars  between  the  two  nations  who  originally  pof- 
lefled  that  ifland,  its  firft  race  of  kJi^s,  and  the  revolutions  of  its  government,  arc 

important 


T    E    M    O    R    A  : 

fonc?.  -^^  their  haif-viewleJi  harps.  No  dwclier  cf  miiiy 
vailev  comes  I  No  hunter,  iiiikncwn  at  his  Ttreams  !  It  is 
the  car-bome  Ofcar,  from  the  fields  of  war.  Sudden  is 
:hv  change,  mv  fon,  from  what  thou  wert  on  dark  Moi- 
:ena  !  The  blall  folds  thee  in  its  Ikirr,  and  rultles  rhrough 
:he  ikv  !  Deft  thou  not  behold  thy  rather,  at  the  fiream 
of  night :  The  chiefs  cf  ^lorven  ileep  fir-diftant.  They 
have  loif  no  fon :  Eur  ye  have  lofl  a  hero,  chiefs  of  re- 
founding  Morven  !  Who  could  equal  his  firength,  when 
battle  rolled  a^nft  his  fide,  like  the  darknefs  of  crciided 
•,;raters  ? — Why  this  cloud  on  Ofiian*s  foul?  It  ou-^ht  to 
bum  in  danger.  Erin  is  near  -with  her  hoft.  The  King  of 
Selma  is  alone.  Alone  thou  Ihalt  not  be,  my  father,  while 
I  can  lift  the  fpear  ! 

I  R05£,  in  all  mv  arms.  I  rofe,  and  iiflened  to  the 
wind.  The  fhield  of  Fillan*  is  not  heard.  I  tremble  for 
the  fon  of  Fingal.  "  Why  fhould  the  foe  come  by  night  r 
Whv  fhould  the  dark-haired  warrior  fall  ?''  Diitant,  ful- 
len  murmurs  rife  :  like  the  noife  of  the  lake  of  Lego, 
when  its  waters  fhrink,  in  the  davs  of  froll,  and  ail  its 
burftinc^  ice  refounds  :  the  people  of  Lara  look  to  heaven, 
rnd'forefee  the  itorm  i — My  fteps  are  forward  on  the 
heath :  the  fpear  of  Ofcar  in  my  hand  I  Red  ftars  looked 
fj-om  high.    I  gleamed  along  the  night. 

I  SAW  Fillan,  filent,  before  me,  bending  forward  from 
Mora's  rock.  He  heard  the  Ihout  of  the  foe.  The  joy  of 
his  foul  arofe.    He  heard  my  founding  tread,  and  turned 

his 

:  '  :c  pOct.  \>"i:b  i3  \iZiLt  Tr,i:v.un  of  the  fabj- 

.;  accc-mis  to  ihe  imp  robable  ficuons  of  the 
n  fables  bear  about  them  the  marks  cf  iare 
tir  foorce  would  be  no  dificult  tafk;  but  a 

^.  .. ^  -.i  no:e  too  far. 

*  W^i  u  ceoins  book,  thai  Catbriior  was  aear  with  an 

z':nr.     "\\ i,  tht  tribes  who  attended  him  fell  back  to  Cath- 

appears,  had  taken  a  refolation  to  farpnfe  Fm^^al  by 
ta  to  the  iJ-1  cf  Mora,  \kiiich  was  m  the  front  cf  the 
"  r  iht  moDoris  of  Czthmor.     In  this  firuation  were  aSairs 
_^  irin.r'-be  DCMfe  of  the  appixjaching  enemv,  went  to  End  oat 

iMSiti.  ifjcij  converfaiion  nanirallv  inirodiices  the  epifode,  ccncerning  Co- 
se Ion  of  Trennior,  the  arS  In-a  moaarch,  which  is  fo  neceffaiy  to  the  an- 
''din~  ibe  fsoDdaiioa  oi  the  rebt.'son  and  ufuTDatioii  of  Cs:rbar  azd  Cathmor. 
was  the  vojBc.^f*  of  the  fons  of  Fm^,  then  living.  He  and  Boiinina,  meq- 
>  '  I~£,  were  the  crJv  children  of  the  kin^,  by  Claibo  the 

ng  of  loji-tore,  wboTT.  he  had  taken  to  wife,  after  the  death 
:-^;r.j:-    •::-  C;  ^ .  hter  of  Corxa^  iliC-Ccaar  iur^  of  Irs^nd. 


:3r;  v&a. 


Book  II.        An-   EPIC    POEM.  273 

his  lifted  ipf  ar.  *'  Comeil  thou,  fon  ci  night,  in  peace  ? 
or  doft  thou  meet  my  -wrath  r  The  foci  ot  Fingal  ^le 
mJne.  Speak,  or  fear  my  fteel.  I  iland  not.  in  Tain,  the 
fhield  of  Morven's  race."  "  Never  mayfl  thou  ftand  in 
vain,  fon  of  blue-eyed  Clatho  I  Fingal  begins  to  be  alone. 
Darknefs  gathers  on  the  lafl:  of  his  days.  Yet  he  has  rxo 
*  fons  who  ought  to  fliine  in  war  ;  who  ougbi  to  be  two 
beams  of  light,  near  the  fteps  of  kis  departure." 

"  Son  of  Fingal,"  replied  the  youth,  "  it  is  not  long 
fmce  I  railed  the  fpear.  Few  are  the  marks  of  my  fwcrd 
in  war.  Bur  Fillan's  foul  is  fire  I  The  chiefs  of  Bcka f 
croud  around  the  fliield  of  generous  Cathmor.  Their  ga- 
thering is  on  that  heath.  Shall  my  fteps  approach  their 
hoft  r  I  yielded  to  Ofcar  alone,  in  the  Urife  of  the  race 
on  Cona !" 

"  FiLi.AN,  thou  {halt  not  approach  their  hoft: ;  nor  fall 
before  thy  fame  is  knov,-n.  ^ly  name  is  heard  in  fong  : 
when  needful,  I  advance.  From  the  fkirts  of  night  I  Ciall 
view  them,  over  all  their  gleaming  tribes.  Why.  Fillan, 
didtl  thou  fpeak  of  Ofcar !  whv  awake  my  figh  ?  I  muft 
for^ret'i  the  warrior,  till  the  ftorm  is  rolled  awav.  Sad- 
nefs  ought  not  to  dwell  in  danger,  nor  the  tear  m  the  eye 
of  war.  Our  fathers  forgot  their  fallen  fons,  till  the  noife 
of  arms  was  pail.  Then  forrow  returned  to  the  tomb,  and 
the  fong  of  bards  arofe.    The  memor)"  cf  thcfe  who  fell, 

]M  m  quickly 

*  That  is,  two  foes  in  Ireland.  Farsus,  the  fjcond  fon  of  Finsal,  was.  21  thai 
time,  on  an  expedition,  which  is  mectioned  in  (xiz  of  ihe  le iTer  poems.  H;,  ac- 
cording to  iome  tradiiions,  was  the  znctiior  ci  Ytrzxn.  the  Ion  of  i-rc  or  Ar.ith, 
ccmraoniv  called  Fe^^its  ikt  JccxmAm.  the  Scotch  hiliones.  The  beginninj  of  the 
reiin  of  Ferziis,  over  the  Sects,  is  placed,  bv  the  n;ofi  approved  '^nr^''>  ci  Scoc- 
land,  ia  the  fourth  vear  of  the  fifdi  a^e  :  a  full  centurv  after  the  dearh  of  Offiin. 
The  genealor-'  of  hisfamiiv  is  recorded  thus  b.  ihs  Hirh.  ii,d  Senadncs;  Iz-i%s 
hlsc-Ar:aih,  }thc-Chcii<:ail^  Mcc-Fcrfss,  iLic-Fics-gcc^ es  cuy :  :'.  e.  F^r^s  ti  -  'ca 
cf  Arcath,  the  ion  of  Ccmgal.  the  fon  of  Feixus.  the '.oc  of  Fingal  tki  tzrsruzs. 
This  fubjecl  is  treated  more  at  lar^e,  in  the  diffenatioQ  aan;xed  to  the  po^rrs. 

f  The  fouthem  pans  of  Ireland  went,  for  fome  time,  under  the  azicc  o:  3>ls;a, 
from  the  Fir-boij  or  Beic^  of  Bntain.  who  fettled  a  colonv  there.  RJ^  ligmiics  c 
jjiZKr,  from  which  proceeds  ff-iaig,  i,  e.  ictv-mtm ;  fo  called  from  their  a£a^ 
bort-s.  more  than  anv  of  the  nei^ihbourin?  nations. 

,;  After  this  paJTase,  O'car  is  not  mentiotied  in  all  Tetnora.  The  fituadoris  of 
the  characters  who  act  in  the  poem  are  fo  intereftin^.  that  othere,  fbrsi^n  to  tbs 
I'jDJect,  coaid  not  be  introduced  ^^-ith  anv  luliie.     Thou  -    -        -   -     :  :ol- 

lows,  mav  leem  to  Sow  naturally  enough  from  the  convc  •  ec 

I  have  {hewn,  in  a  preceding  note,  and,  more  at  large,  :..  .^^  , ^.w_: .  . -j^cd 

ti)  this  rolleftion,  thai  the  poet  had  a  firthcr  defljn  in  view. 


274 


T    E    M    O    R    A  : 


quickly  followed  the  departure  of  war.  "When  the  tu- 
mult of  battle  is  pad,  the  foul,  in  filence,  melts  away, 
for  the  dead. 

"  CoNAR*  was  the  brother  of  Trathal,  firft  of  mortal 
men.  His  battles  were  on  every  coaft.  A  thoufand  ftreams 
rolled  down  the  blood  of  his  foes.  His  fame  filled  green 
Erin,  like  a  pleafant  gale.  The  nations  gathered  in  Ullin, 
and  they  bleifed  the  king  ;  the  king  of  the  race  of  their 
fathers,  frpm  the  land  of  Selma. 

"  The  chiefs  f  of  the  fouth  were  gathered,  in  the  dark- 
nefs  of  their  pride.  In  the  horrid  cave  of  Moma  they 
mixed  their  fecret  words.  Thither  often,  they  faid,  the 
fpirits  of  their  fathers  came  ;  fliewing  their  pale  forms 
from  the  chinky  rocks  ;  reminding  them  of  the  honour 
of  Bolga.  "  Why  fliould  Conar  reign,"  they  faid,  *'  the 
fon  of  refounding  Morven  ?" 

"  They  came  forth,  like  the  ftreams  of  the  defart,with 
the  roar  of  their  hundred  tribes.  Conar  was  a  rock  before 
them  :  broken,  they  rolled  on  every  fide.  But  often  they 
returned,  and  the  fons  of  Selma  fell.  The  king  flood, 
among  the  tombs  of  his  warriors.  He  darkly  bent  his 
mournful  face.  His  foul  was  rolled  into  itfelf ;  and  he 
had  marked  the  place  where  he  was  to  fall  ;  when  Tra- 
thal came  in  his  ftrength,  his  brother,  from  cloudy  Mor- 
ven.   Nor  did  he  come  alone.    Colgar  ||  was  at  his  fide  ; 

Colgar 

*  Conar,  the  firft  king  of  Ireland,  was  the  fon  of  Trenmor,  the  great-grand-fa- 
tber  of  FiDgal.  It  was  on  account  of  this  family-conneftion,  that  Fingal  was  en- 
gaged in  fo  many  wars  in  the  canfe  of  the  race  of  Conar.  Though  few  of  the  ac- 
tions of  Trenmor  are  mentioned,  he  was  the  moft  renowned  name  of  antiquity. 
The  moft  probable  opinion  concerning  him  is,  that  he  was  the  firU,  who  united  the 
tribes  of  the  Caledonians,  and  coaimanded  them,  in  chief,  againft  the  incurfions 
of  the  Romans.  The  genealotiifts  of  the  NcHth  have  traced  his  family  far  back,  and 
given  a  lift  of  his  anceAors  to  Cuan-mor  nan  Ian,  or  Conmor  of  the  fwords,  who, 
according  to  them,  was  the  firft  who  croifcd  the  great Jea,  to  Caledonia,  from  which 
circumftance  his  name  proceeded,  which  fignifies  graat  ocean.  Genealogies  of  fo 
ancient  a  date,  however,  are  little  to  be  depended  upon. 

f  The  chiefs  of  the  Fir-bolg  v>'ho  poffcffed  themfelves  of  the  fouth  of  Ireland, 
prior,  perhaps,  to  the  fettlement  of  the  Cael  of  Caledonia,  and  the  Hebrides,  in 
Ulfier.  From  the  fcquel,  it  appears  that  the  Fir-bolg  were,  by  much,  the  moft: 
powerful  nation;  and  it  is  piobable  that  the  Cael  muft  have  fubmitted  to  them, 
had  they  not  received  fuccours  from  their  mother-country  under  the  command  of 
Trathal. 

II  Co\o.tr,  Jiercely-looking  warrior.  Sulin-corma,  ^/ae(?j'«.  Colgar  was  the  eldeft 
of  the  foils  of  Trathal ;  Comhal,  who  was  the  father  of  Fingal,  was  very  young 
\vhen  the  prefent  expedition  to  Ireland  happened.  It  is  jemarkable,  that,  of  al! 
I  '  the 


Book  IL  An  EPIC    POEM. 


'2^15 


Colgar  the  fon  of  the  king  and  of  white-bofomed  Sulin- 
corma. 

"  As  Trenmor,  clothed  with  meteors,  defcends  from 
the  halls  of  thunder,  pouring  the  dark  florm  before  him 
over  the  troubled  fea  \  fo  Colgar  defcended  to  battle,  and 
walled  the  echoing  field.  His  father  rejoiced  over  the 
hero  :  but  an  arrow  came !  His  tomb  was  raifed,  without 
a  tear.  The  king  was  to  revenge  his  fon.  He  lightened 
forward  in  battle,  till  Bolo;a  yielded  at  her  ftreams  ! 

"  When  peace  returned  to  the  land :  when  his  blue 
waves  bore  the  king  to  Morven  ;  then  he  remembered  his 
fon,  and  poured  the  fiient  tear.  Thrice  did  the  bards,  at 
the  cave  of  Furmono,  call  the  foul  of  Colgar.  They  call- 
ed him  to  the  hills  of  his  land.  He  heard  them,  in  his 
mid.  Trathal  placed  his  fword  in  the  cave,  that  the  fpirit 
of  his  fon  might  rejoice.'* 

"  Colgar*,  fon  of  Trathal !"  faid  Fillan,  "  thou  wert 
renowned  in  youth  !  But  the  king  hath  not  marked  my 
fword,  bright-ftreaming  on  the  field.  I  go  forth  with  the 
croud  :  I  return,  without  my  fame.  But  the  foe  ap- 
proaches, Ofiian  !  I  hear  their  murmur  on  the  hearh. 
The  found  of  their  fleps  is  like  thunder,  in  the  bofom  of 
the  ground  ;  when  the  rocking  hills  fhake  their  groves, 
and  not  a  blaft  pours  from  the  darkened  fky  !'* 

OssiAN  turned,  fudden,  on  his  fpear.  He  raifed  the 
flame  of  an  oak  on  high.  I  fpread  it  large,  on  Mora's 
wind.  Cathmor  flopt  in  his  courfe.  Gleaming  he  flood, 
like  a  rock,  on  whofe  fides  are  the  wandering  of  blafis  ; 
which  feize  its  echoing  fides,  and  clothe  them  over  with 
ice.    So  ftood  the  friendf  of  flrangers !    The  winds  lift  his 

heavy 

the  anceftors  of  Fingal,  tradition  makes  the  lead  mention  of  Comhal ;  '.vhich,  pro- 
bably, proceeded  from  the  unfortunate  life  and  untimely  death  of  that  hero.  From 
fome  paffages,  concerning  him,  we  learn,  indeed,  that  he  was  brave,  but  he  v^auted 
conduft. 

*  The  poem  begins  here  to  mark  ftrongly  the  charafler  of  Fillan,  who  is  to  make 
fo  great  a  figure  in  the  fequel.  He  has  the  impatience,  the  ambition  and  fire  which 
are  peculiar  to  a  young;  hero.  Kindled  with  the  fame  of  Colgar,  he  forgets  his  un- 
timely fall.  From  FiUan's  exprelfions  in  this  paflage,  it  woiild  feem,  th^t  he  was 
neglefled  by  Fingal,  on  account  of  his  youth, 

f  Cathmor  is  diRinguiilied,  by  this  honourable  title,  on  account  of  his  generc- 
fity  to  ftiangers,  which  was  fo  great  ai  to  be  remarkable  even  in  thofe  day$  of  hcf- 
pitality, 


276 


T    E    M    O    R    A 


heavy  locks.    Thou  art  the  tailed  of  the  race  of  Erin, 
king  of  ilreamy  Atha  ! 

"  First  of  bards,"  faid  Cathmor,  "Fonar*,  call  the 
chiefs  of  Erin.  Call  red-haired  Cor  mar  ;  dark-browed 
Pvlalthos  ;  the  fidelong-iooking  gloom  of  Maronan.  Let 
the  pride  of  Foldath  appear.  The  red-rolling  eye  of  Tur- 
lotho.  Nor  let  Hidalia  be  forgot  :  his  voice,  in  danger, 
is  the  found  of  a  iliower,  when  it  falls  in  the  blafted  vale, 
near  Atha*s  falling  ftream.  Pleafant  is  its  found,  on  the 
plam,  whiirt  broken  thunder  travels  over  the  il^y  !'* 

TiiiiY  came,  in  their  clanging  arms.  They  bent  for- 
ward to  his  voice,  as  if  a  fpirit  of  their  fathers  fpoke  from 
a  cloud  of  night.  Dreadful  flione  they  to  the  light;  like  the 
fall  of  the  flream  of  Brumof,  when  the  meteor  lights  it, 
before  the  nightly  ftranger.  Shuddering,  he  flops  in  his 
to  >' ney,  and  looks  up  for  the  beam  of  the  morn  ! 

'■  Why|j  delights  Foldath,"  faid  the  king,  "  to  pour 
tlie  blood  of  foes  by  night  ?  Fails  his  arm  in  battle,  in  the 
beams  of  day  ?  Few  are  the  foes  before  us  ;  why  fliould 
we  clothe  us  in  fliades  ?  The  valiant  delight  to  fliine,  in 
the  battles  of  their  land  !  Thy  counfel  was  in  vain,  chief 
of  Moma  !  the  eyes  of  Morven  do  not  fleep.  They  are 
wa<^chful,  as  eagles,  on  their  mofly  rocks.  Let  each  col- 
lefl;,  beneath  his  cloud,  the  ftrength  of  his  roaring  tribe. 
To-ir'.orrow  I  move,  in  light,  to  meet  the  foes  of  Bolga  ? 
Mlghly  was  he§  that  is  low,  the  race  of  Borbar-duthul !" 

"  Not  unmarked,"  faid  Foldath,  "  were  my  fteps  be- 
fore thy  race.    In  light,  I  met  the  foes  of  Cairbar.    The 
warrior  praifed  my  deeds.    But  his  Itone  was  raifed  with- 
out 

*  Fonar,  the  man  of  fang.  Before  the  introduflion  of  Chriftianity  a  name  was  not 
impoled  upon  any  pcrfon,  till  he  had  diftingulflied  himfelf  by  feme  remarkable  ac- 
tion, from  which  his  name  Ibould  be  derived. 

t  Brumo  was  a  place  of  worfliip  (Fing.  b.  6.)  in  Craca,  which  is  fuppofed  to 
be  one  of  the  ifles  of  Shetland.  It  was  thought,  that  the  fpirits  of  the  deceafed 
haunted  it,  by  ni<;ht,  which  adds  more  terror  to  the  defcription  introduced  here. 
The  horrid  circle  of  Brumo,  where  of im,  they  faid,  the  ghofs  cf  the  dead  howled  rmnd 
the  [tone  of  fear. 

\  From  this  palTage,  it  appears,  that  it  was  Foldath  who  had  advifed  the  night- 
attack.  The  gloomy  charatier  of  Foldath  is  properly  contradcd  to  the  generous, 
the  opL-n  Cathmor 

\  By  this  exclamation  Cathmor  intimates  that  he  intends  to  revenue  the  death  a£ 
his  brother  Cairbar. 


Book  II.        An   EPIC   POEM.  277 

out  a  tear  !  No  bard  fung*  over  Erin's  king.  Shall  his 
foes  rejoice  along  their  moffy  hilis  ?  No :  they  mud  not 
rejoice  !  He  was  the  friend  of  Foldath  !  Our  words  were 
mixed,  in  fecret,  in  Moma's  fdent  cave  ;  whilft  thou,  a 
boy  in  the  field,  purfuedfl  the  thiftle's  beard.  With  Mo- 
ma's fons  I  fiiall  rufh  abroad,  and  find  the  foe,  on  his 
duiky  hills.  Fingal  fliall  lie,  without  his  fong,  the  grey- 
haired  king  of  Selma." 

"  Dost  thou  think,  thou  feeble  man,"  replied  Cath- 
mor,  half-enraged  :  "  dofl  thou  think  Fingal  can  fall, 
without  his  fame,  in  Erin  ?  Could  the  bards  be  filent,  at 
the  tomb  of  Selma's  king  ?  The  fong  would  burft  in  fe- 
cret !  the  fpirit  of  the  king  would  rejoice  !  It  is  when  thou 
ihalt  fall,  that  the  bard  fliall  forget  the  fong.  Thou  art 
dark,  chief  of  Moma,  though  thine  arm  is  a  tempefl  in 
war.  Do  I  forget  the  king  of  Erin,  in  his  narrow  houfe  ? 
My  foul  is  not  loft  to  Cairbar,  the  brother  of  my  love !  I 
marked  the  bright  beams  of  joy,  which  travelled  over  his 
cloudy  mind,  when  I  returned,  with  fame,  to  Atha  of  the 
ftreams." 

Tall  they  removed,  beneath  the  words  of  the  king, 
each  to  his  own  dark  tribe  ;  where,  humming,  they  rolled 
on  the  heath,  faint-glittering  to  the  ftars  ;  like  waves,  in 
a  rocky  bay,  before  the  nightly  wind.  Beneath  an  oak, 
lay  the  chief  of  Atha.  His  fliield,  a  dufliy  round,  hung 
high.  Near  him.,  againfl  a  rock,  leaned  the  fair  ftrangerf 
of  Inis-huna  ;  that  beam  of  light,  with  wandering  locks, 
from  Lumon  of  the  roes.  At  diflance  rofe  the  voice  of 
Fonar,  with  the  deeds  of  the  days  of  old.  The  fong  fails, 
at  times,  in  Lubar's  growing  roar  ! 

"  CrotharjI,"  begun  the  bard,  "  firfl  dwelt  at  Atha's 

mofiy 

*  To  have  no  funeral  elegy  fung  over  his  tomb,  was,  among  the  Celta?,  reckoned 
the  greateft  mistortune  that  could  befal  a  man;  as  his  foul  could  not  otherwife  be 
admitted  to  the  airy  hall  of  his  fathers. 

t  "&.' tkt  Jlranger  of  Inis-huna,  is  meant  Sul-malla,  the  daughter  of  Conmo 
king  of  Inis-huna,  the  ancient  name  of  that  part  of  South-Britain,  -.vhich  is  next 
to  the  Irifh  coaft.  She  had  followed  Cathmor  in  difguife.  Her  fiory  is  related  at 
large  in  the  fourth  book. 

II  Crothar  was  the  anceflor  of  Cathmor,  and  the  firft  of  his  funiiy  who  had  fet- 
tled in  Atha.  It  was,  in  his  time,  that  the  firfl:  wars  were  kindled  between  the  Fir- 
bolg  and  Gael.  The  propiicty  of  the  epifode  is  evident;  as  the  conteft  which  ori- 
ginally role  between  Crothar  and  Conar,  i'ublifted  after«Vi<rds  between  their  poftcri- 
ty,  and  was  the  foundation  of  ths  ftory  cf  the  poem. 


278 


T    E    M    O    R    A : 


mofly  flream !  A  tlioufandf  oaks,  from  the  mountains, 
formed  his  echoing  hall.  The  gathering  of  the  people  was 
there,  around  the  feaft  of  the  blue-eyed  king.  But  who, 
among  his  chiefs,  was  like  the  ftately  Crothar  ?  Warriors 
kindled  in  his  prefence.  The  young  figh  of  the  virgins 
rofe.'  In  Alnecma|j  was  the  warrior  honoured  ;  the  firft 
of  the  race  of  Bolga. 

"  He  purfued  the  chace  in  Ullin  ;  on  the  mofs-covered 
top  of  Drumardo.  From  the  wood  looked  the  daughter 
of  Cathmin,  the  blue-rolling  eye  of  Con-lama.  Her  figh 
rofe  in  fecret.  She  bent  her  head,  midft  her  wandering 
locks.  The  moon  looked  in,  at  night,  and  faw  the  white- 
toiling  of  her  arms ;  for  fhe  thought  of  the  mighty  Cro- 
thar, in  the  feafon  of  dreams. 

"  Three  days  feafted  Crothar  with  Cathmin.  On  the 
fourth  they  awaked  the  hinds.  Con-hima  moved  to  the 
chace,  with  all  her  lovely  fteps.  She  met  Crothar  in  the 
narrow  path.  The  bow  fell,  at  once,  from  her  hand. 
She  turned  her  face  away,  and  half-hid  it  with  her  locks. 
The  love  of  Crothar  rofe.  He  brought  the  white-bofomed 
maid  to  Atha.  Bards  raifed  the  fong  in  her  prefence. 
Joy  dvv'elt  round  the  daughter  of  Cathmin. 

"  The  pride  of  Turloch  rofe,  a  youth  who  loved  the 
white-handed  Con-lama.  He  came,  with  battle,  to  Al- 
necma ;  to  Atha  of  the  roes.  Cormul  went  forth  to  the 
ftrife,  the  brother  of  car-borne  Crothar.  He  went  forth, 
but  he  fell.    The  figh  of  his  people  rofe.    Silent  and  tall, 

acrofs 

•I-  From  this  clrcumftance  we  may  learn  that  the  art  of  building  with  (lone  was 
not  known  in  Ireland  fo  eaily  as  the  days  of  Crothar,  When  the  colonies  were 
ion,a;  fettled  in  the  country,  the  arts  of  civil  life  began  to  increafe  among  them,  for 
we  find  mention  made  of  the  towers  of  Atha  in  the  time  of  Cathmor,  which  could 
fiot  well  be  applied  to  wooden  buildings.  In  Caledonia  they  bcf'un  very  early  to 
build  with  (lone.  None  of  the  houfes  of  Fingal,  excepting  Ti-foirmal,  were  of 
v,!ood.  Ti-foirmal  was  the  great  hall  where  the  bards  met  to  repeat  their  compofi- 
!  ons  annually,  before  they  fubmitted  them  to  the  judgment  of  the  king  in  Selma. 
i3y  iome  accident  or  other,  this  wooden  houfe  happened  to  be  burnt,  and  an  anci- 
ent bard,  in  the  charafter  of  Oflian,  has  left  us  a  curious  catalogue  of  the  furniture 
which  it  contained.  The  poem  is  not  juft  now  in  my  hands,  oiherwile  I  would  lay 
I'.ere  a  tranflation  of  it  before  the  reader.  It  has  little  poetical  merit,  and  evidently 
bears  the  marks  of  a  later  period. 

11  Alnecma,  or  Alnecmacht,  was  the  ancient  name  of  Connaught.  Ullin  is  flill 
the  Irifli  name  of  the  province  of  Ulfter.  To  avoid  the  multiplying  of  notes,  I 
fiiall  here  give  the  fignification  of  the  names  in  this  epifode.  Drumardo,  high-ridge. 
Catlimin,  calm  in  battle.  Con-lamha,  Jeft  hand.  Turloch,  man  of  the  qvivcr^ 
"Cormul,  blue  eye. 


Book  11.  An  EPIC    POEM.  279 

acrofs  the  ftream,  came  the  darkening  flrength  of  Cro- 
thar:  he  rolled  the  foe  from  Alnecma.  He  returned,  midft 
the  joy  of  Con-lama. 

"  Battle  on  battle  comes.  Blood  is  poured  on  blood. 
The  tombs  of  the  valiant  rife.  Erin's  clouds  are  hung 
round  with  ghofts.  The  chiefs  of  the  fouth  gathered  round 
the  echoing  fhield  of  Crothar.  He  came,  with  death,  to 
the  paths  of  the  foe.  The  virgins  wept,  by  the  dreams 
of  XJllin.  They  looked  to  the  mifii  of  the  hill:  No  hunter 
defcended  from  its  folds.  Silence  darkened  in  the  land. 
Blafts  fighed  lonely  on  grafly  tombs. 

"  Descending  like  the  eagle  of  heaven,  with  all  his 
ruftling  wings,  when  he  forfakes  the  blaft,  with  joy,  the 
fon  of  Trenmor  came ;  Conar,  arm  of  death,  from  Mor- 
ven  of  the  groves.  He  poured  his  might  along  green  Erin. 
Death  dimly  flrode  behind  his  fword.  The  ions  of  Bolga 
fled,  from  his  courfe,  as  from  a  flream,  that,,bur{ling  from 
the  ftormy  defart,  rolls  the  fields  together,  vAth  all  their 
echoing  woods.  Crothar  *  met  him  in  battle  :  but  Alnec- 
ma's  warriors  fled.  The  king  of  Atha  flowly  retired,  in 
the  grief  of  his  foul.  He,  afterwards,  flione  in  the  ibuth; 
but  dim  as  the  fun  of  autumn  ;  when  he  vifits,  in  his 
robes  of  mift,  Lara  of  dark  ft:reams.  The  withered  grafs 
is  covered  with  dew  :  the  field,  though  bright,  is  fad !" 

"  Wky  wakes  the  bard  before  me,"  faid  Cathmor, 
"  the  memory  of  thofe  who  fled  ?  Has  fome  ghoft,  from 
his  duflvy  cloud,  bent  forward  to  thine  ear ;  to  frighten 
Cathmor  from  the  field,  with  the  tales  of  old  ?  Dwellers 
of  the  {kins  of  night,  your  voice  is  but  a  blaft  to  me ; 
which  takes  the  grey  thifl:ie's  beard  and  ftrews  its  head  on 
ftreams.    Within  my  bofom  is  a  voice.     Others  hear  it 

not. 

*  The  delicacy  here,  with  regard  to  Crothar,  is  proper.  As  he  was  the  ancef- 
tor  of  Cathmor,  to  whom  the  epifode  is  addrelfed,  the  bard  fol'teiis  his  defeat,  h)- 
only  mentioning  that  Wk  people  jled.  Cathmor  took  the  fong  of  Fonar  in  an  unla- 
A'ourable  light.  The  baids,  being  of  the  order  of  the  Druids,  who  pretended  to  a 
foreknowledge  of  events,  \?ere  fuppofed  to  have  fome  fuperna'.ural  prelcience  of 
futurity.  The  king  thought,  that  the  choice  of  Fonat's  fong  proceeded,  from  his 
forefeeingthe  unfortunate  iffue  of  the  war;  and  th.at  his  own  fate  was  fhadowed  out, 
in  that  of  his  anceRor  Crothar,  The  attitude  of  the  bard,  after  the  reprimand  of 
his  patron,  is  picturefque  and  affefting.  We  adm'.re  the  fpeech  of  Cathmor,  but 
lament  the  effeft  it  has  on  the  feeling  foul  of  the  good  old  poet. 


28o  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

not.    His  foul  forbids  the  king  of  Erin  to  flirink  back 
from  war." 

Abashed,  the  bard  fmks  back  in  night :  retired,  he 
bends  above  a  ftream.  His  thoughts  are  on  the  days  of 
Atha,  when  Cathmor  heard  his  fong  with  joy.  His  tears 
come  rolling  down.    The  winds  are  in  his  beard. 

Erin  fleeps  around.  No  fleep  comes  down  on  Cath- 
mor's  eyes.  Dark,  in  his  foul,  he  faw  the  fpirit  of  low- 
laid  Cairbar.  He  faw  him,  wdthout  his  fong,  rolled  in  a 
blafl  of  night.  He  rofe.  His  (leps  were  round  the  hoft. 
He  ftruck,  at  times,  his  echoing  fliield.  The  found  reach- 
ed OfTian's  ear,  on  Mora's  mofly  brow. 

"  FiLLAN,"  I  faid,  "  the  foes  advance.  I  hear  the 
fliield  of  war.  Stand  thou  in  the  narrow  path.  OiTian 
fhall  mark  their  courfe.  If  over  my  fall  the  hoft  iliould 
pour,  then  be  thy  buckler  heard.  Awake  the  king  on 
his  heath,  left  his  fame  fliould  fly  away."  I  ftrode  in  all 
mv  rattling  arms  ;  wide-bounding  over  a  ftream,  that 
darkly-v/inded,  in  the  field,  before  the  king  of  Atha.  Green 
Atha's  king,  with  lifted  fpear,  came  forward  on  my  courfe. 
Now  would  we  have  mixed  in  horrid  fray,  like  two  con- 
tending ghofts,  that,  bending  forward  from  two  clouds, 
fend  forth  the  roaring  winds  ;  did  not  Offian  behold,  on 
high,  the  helmet  of  Erin's  kings.  The  eagle's  wing  fpread 
over  it,  ruftling  in  the  breeze.  A  red  ftar  looked  through 
the  plumes.    I  ftopt  the  lifted  fpear. 

"  The  helmet  of  kings  is  before  me !  Who  art  thou, 
fon  of  night  ?  Shall  Offian's  fpear  be  renowned,  when 
thou  art  lowly-laid  ?"  At  once  he  dropt  the  gleaming 
lance.  Growing  before  me  feemed  the  form.  He  ftretched 
his  hand  in  night.     He  fpoke  the  words  of  kings. 

"  Friend  of  the  fpirits  of  heroes,  do  I  meet  thee  thus 
in  fhades  ?  I  have  wiihed  for  thy  ftately  fteps  in  Atha,  in 
the  days  of  joy.  Why  fhould  my  fpear  now  arife  ?  The 
fun  muft  behold  us,  Offian  ;  when  w^e  bend,  gleaming, 
in  the  ftrife.  Future  warriors  fhall  mark  the  place  ;  and, 
ihuddering,  think  of  other  years.  They  fliall  mark  it, 
like  the  haunt  of  ghofts,  pleafant  and  dreadful  to  the  foul.'* 

"  Shall  it  then  be  forgot,"  I  faid,  "  where  we  meet 
in  peace  ?    Is  the  remembrance  of  battles  always  pleafant 

to 


Book  II.         An  EPIC   POEM.  281 

to  the  foul?  Do  not  we  behold,  v/ith  joy,  the  place  where 
our  fathers  feafted  ?  But  our  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  on  the 
fields  of  their  war.  This  Itone  Ihall  rife,  withall  its  mofs, 
and  fpeak  to  other  years.  "  Here  Cathmor  and  Offian 
met !  the  warriors  met  in  peace !"  When  thou,  O  ftone, 
flialt  fail:  when  Lubar's  ftream  (liall  roll  away  ;  then  fhall 
the  traveller  come,  and  bend  here,  perhaps,  in  refi:» 
When  the  darkened  moon  is  rolled  over  his  head,  our 
fliadowy  forms  may  come,  and,  mixing  with  his  dreams, 
remind  him  of  this  place.  But  why  turned  thou  fo  dark 
away,  fon  of  Borbar-duthul  *  ?" 

"  Not  forgot,  fon  of  Fingal,  fliall  we  afcend  thefe 
winds.  Our  deeds  are  dreams  of  light,  before  the  eyes 
of  bards.  But  darknefs  is  rolled  on  Atha :  the  king  is 
low,  without  his  fong.  Still  there  was  a  beam  towards 
Cathmor  from  his  dormy  foul ;  like  the  moon,  in  a  cloudy 
amidd  the  dark-red  courfe  of  thunder.'* 

"  Son  of  Erin,"  I  replied,  '■'•  my  wrath  dwells  not  in 
his  earth  -j-.  My  hatred  flies,  on  eagle-wing,  from  the  foe; 
that  is  low.  He  fliall  hear  the  fong  of  bards.  Cairbar  lliall 
rejoice  on  his  winds.'* 

Cathmor's  fwelHng  foul  arofe.  He  took  the  dagger 
from  his  fide,  and  placed  it,  gleaming,  in  my  hand.  He 
placed  it,  in  my  hand,  with  dghs,  and,  filent,  drode  away. 
Mine  eyes  followed  his  departure.  He  dimly  gleamed, 
like  the  form  of  a  ghod,  which  meets  a  traveller,  by 
night,  on  the  dark-ikirted  heath.  His  words  are  darky 
like  fongs  of  old :  with  morning  drides  the  unfiniHied 
diade  away ! 

jl  Who  comes  from  Lubar's  vale  ?  from  the  Ikirts  of 

N  n  the 

*  Borbar-duthul,  the  furly  warrior  of  the  dark-hrown  eye^.  That !, is  name  fuited 
well  with  his  charafter,  we  may  eafiiy  conceive,  from  the  llory  delivered  concern- 
ing him,  by  Multhos,  toward  the  end  of  the  fixth  book.  He  was  the  brother  of 
that  Colculla,  who  is  mentioned  in  the  cpifode  which  begins  the  Fourth  book. 

f  This  reply  abounds  with  the  fentiments  of  a  noble  mind.  Though,  of  all  men! 
living,  he  was  the  the  mod  injured  by  Cairbar,  yet  he  lays  afide  his  rage,  as  the 
foe  is  Low.  How  different  is  this  from  the  behaviour  of  the  heroes  of  other  ancient 
poems  !    Cynthius  aurcm  vcllit. 

';]  The  mornins;  of  the  fecond  day,  from  the  opening  of  the  poem,  comes  od.- 
After  the  death  of  Cuthullin,  Carril,  the  fon  of  Kinfena,  his  bard,  retired  to  the 
cave  of  Tura,  which  was  in  the  neighbouihood  of  Moi-lcna,  the  fcene  of  the  poem 
of  Teniora.  His  cafual  appearance  here  enables  Offian  to  fulfil  immediately  the 
promife  he  had  made  to  Cathmor,  of  caafing  the  yz<w?fl/yo«o- to  be  pronounced 
over  the  tomb  cf  Caiibar,     This  book  takes  up  only  the  fpace  of  a  few  hour?. 


282  T    E    M    O    R    A. 

the  morning  mift  ?  Tlie  drops  of  heaven  are  on  his  head. 
His  fteps  are  in  the  paths  of  the  fad.  It  is  Carril  of  other 
times:  he  comes  from  Tura's  filent  cave.  I  behold  it  dark 
in  the  rock,  through  the  thin  folds  of  mift.  There,  per- 
haps, Cuthiillin  fits,  on  the  blaft  which  bends  its  trees. 
Pleafant  is  the  fong  of  the  morning  from  the  bard  of  Erin! 

"  The  waves  crowd  away,"  faid  Carril :  "  They  crowd 
away  for  fear.  They  hear  the  found  of  thy  coming  forth, 
O  fun  !  Terrible  is  thy  beauty,  fon  of  heaven,  when  death 
is  defcending  on  thy  locks ;  when  thou  rolleft  thy  vapours 
before  thee,  over  th.^  blafted  hoft.  But  pleafant  is  thy 
beam  to  tlje  hunter,  fitting  by  a  rock  in  a  ftorm,  when 
thou  fhoweft  thyfeif  from  the  parted  cloud,  and  bright- 
eneft  his  dewy  locks:  he  looks  down  on  the  ftieamy  vale, 
and  beholds  the  defcent  of  roes!  How  long  (halt  thou  rife 
on  war,  and  roll,  a  bloody  fhield,  through  heaven  ?  I  fee 
the  deaths  of  heroes,  dark -wandering  o\er  thy  face  !" 

"  Why  wander  the  words  of  Carril  ?"  I  faid.  "  Does 
the  fon  of  heaven  mourn  ?  He  is  unftained  in  his  courfe, 
ever  rejoicing  in  his  hre.  Roll  on,  thou  carelefs  light. 
Thou,  too,  perhaps,  muft  fall.  Thy  darkening  hour  may 
feize  thee,  Ilruggling,  as  thou  rolleft  through  the  fky. 
But  pleafant  is  the  voice  of  the  bard!  pleafant,  to  OfTian's 
foul !  It  is  like  the  fliower  of  the  morning,  when  it  comes 
through  the  ruftling  vale,  on  which  the  fun  looks  through 
miff,  juft  rifmg  from  his  rocks.  But  this  is  no  time,  O 
bard,  to  fit  down  at  the  ftrife  of  fong.  Fingal  is  in  arms 
on  the  vale.  Thou  feeft  the  flaming  fbield  of  the  king. 
His  face  darkens  between  his  locks.  He  beholds  the  wide- 
rolling  of  Erin.  Does  not  Carril  behold  that  tomb,  befide 
the  roaring  ftream  ?  Three  ftones  lift  their  gr^y  heads, 
beneath  a  bending  oak.  A  king  is  lowly  laid  !  Give  thou 
his  foul  to  the  v/ind.  He  is  the  brother  of  Cathmor  ! 
Open  his  airy  hall !  Let  thy  fong  be  a  ftream  of  joy  to 
Cairbar's  darkened  ghoft." 


TEMORA: 


T      E      M      O      R      A 


A  N 

EPIC        POEM. 
BOOK    IIL 


ARGUMENT. 

MORNING  coming  on,  Fingal,  after  a  fpeech  to  his  people,  devolves  the  com- 
nftind  on  Gaul,  the  Ton  of  Morni ;  it  being  the  cuflom  of  the  times,  that  the 
king  fliould  not  engage,  till  the  neccffity  of  affairs  required  his  fuperior  valour 
and  conduft.  The  king  and  Offian  retire  to  the  rock  of  Cormul,  which  over- 
looked the  field  of  battle.  The  bards  fing  the  war-fong.  The  general  conflift 
is  defcribed.  Gaul,  the  fon  of  Moini,  diftinguiflies  himfelf ;  kills  Tur-lathon, 
chief  of  Moruth,  and  other  chiefs  of  leffer  name.  On  the  other  hand,  Foldath, 
who  commanded  the  Irifliarmy  (for  Cathmor,  after  the  example  of  Fingal,  kept 
himfeir  from  battle)  fights  gallantly ;  kills  Connal,  chief  of  Dun-lora,  and  ad- 
vances to  engage  Gaul  himfelf.  Gaul,  in  the  mean  time,  being  wounded  in 
the  h.md,  by  a  random  arrow,  is  covered  by  Fillan,  the  fon  of  Fingal,  who  per- 
forms prodigies  of  valour.  Night  comes  on.  The  horn  of  Fiugal  recals  his  ar- 
my. The  bards  meet  them,  with  a  congratulatory  fong,  in  which  the  praifes  of 
Gaul  and  Fillan  aie  particularly  celebrated.  The  chiefs  fit  down  at  a  feaftj  Fin- 
gal mifles  Connal.  The  epifode  of  Connal  and  Duth-caron  is  introduced  j  v/hich 
throws  farther  light  on  the  ancient  hiflory  of  Ireland.  Carril  is  difpatched  to 
raife  the  tomb  of  Coijnal.  The  aSion  of  this  book  takes  up  the  fecond  day,  from 
the  opening  of  the  poem. 

'HO  is  that  at  blue-ftreamlng  Lubar  ?  Who,  by 
the  bending  hill  of  roes  ?  Tall,  he  leans  on  an 
oak  torn  from  high,  by  nightly  winds.  Who,  but  Com- 
hal's  fon,  brightening  in  the  lad  of  his  fields  ?  His  grey 
hair  is  on  the  breeze.  He  half-unfheaths  the  fword  of 
Luno.  His  eyes  are  turned  to  Moi-lena,  to  the  dark  mov- 
ing of  foes.  Doft  thou  hear  the  voice  of  the  king  ?  It  is 
like  the  burllingof  a  ftream,  in  the  defart,  when  it  comes, 
between  its  echoing  rocks,  to  the  blafted  field  of  the  fun  I 
"  Wide-skirted  comes  down  the  foe  !  Sons  of  woody 
Selma,  arife.    Be  ye  like  the  rocks  of  our  land,  on  whofe 

brown 


p84  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

brown  fides  are  the  rolling  of  ftreams.  A  beam  of  joy 
comes  on  my  foul.  I  fee  the  foe  mighty  before  me.  It  is 
when  he  is  feeble,  that  the  fighs  of  Fingal  are  heard  ; 
leu  death  fhould  come,  without  renown,  and  darknefs 
dwell  on  his  tomb.  Who  fliall  lead  the  war  againft  the 
hoft  of  Alnecma  ?  It  is  only  when  danger  grows,  that  my 
fword  fhall  fhine.  Such  was  the  cuftom,  heretofore,  of 
Trenmor  the  ruler  of  winds  ;  and  thus  defcended  to  bat- 
tle the  blue-lhielded  Trathal." 

The  chiefs  bend  toward  the  king.  Each  darkly  feems 
to  claim  the  war.  They  tell,  by  halves,  their  mighty 
deeds.  They  turn  their  eyes  on  Erin.  But,  far  before 
the  reft,  the  fon  of  Morni  ftands.  Silent  he  ftands  ;  for 
who  had  not  heard  of  the  battles  of  Gaul  ?  They  rofe 
within  his  foul.  His  hand,  in  fecret,  feized  the  fword  : 
the  fword  which  he  brought  from  Strumon,  when  the 
flrength  of  Morni  failed*. 

On 

*  Strumon,  pcam  of  the  hill,  the  name  of  the  feat  of  the  family  of  Gaul,  in  the 
peighbourhood  of  Selnia.  During  Gaul's  expedition  to  Tromathon,  mentioned 
in  the  poem  uf  Oitlwna,  Morni  his  father  died.  Morni  ordered  the  fwoid  of  Stru- 
ruon,  (which  had  been  preferved,  in  the  family,  as  a  relic^ue,  from  the  days  of  Col- 
gach,  the  moQ  renowned  of  his  anceflors)  to  be  laid  by  his  fide,  in  the  tomb  : 
at  the  fame  time,  leaving  it  in  charge  to  his  fon,  not  to  take  it  from  thence,  till 
he  was  reduced  to  the  laft  extremity.  Not  long  after,  two  of  his  brothers  being 
flain,  in  b?tile,  by  Coldaronnan,  chief  of  Clutha,  Gaul  went  to  his  father's  tomb 
to  take  the  fword.  His  addrcls  to  the  fplrit  of  the  deceafed  hero,  is  the  fubjeft  of 
}.he  following  fhort  poem, 


GAUL. 

I'y  REAKER  of  echoing  fliields,  whole  head  is  deep  in  fhades;  hear  me,  from 
3   the  darknefs  of  Clora  :  O  fon  of  Colgach,  hear! 

No  ruftling,  like  the  eagle's  wing,  comes  over  the  courfe  of  my  ftreams.  Deep 
bofomed  in  the  midft  of  the  defart,  O  king  of  Strumon,  hear! 

DwelleR  thou  in  the  fhadowy  breeze,  that  pours  its  dark  wave  over  the  grafs ! 
Ceafe  to  Urcw  the  bea.id  of  the  thiflle  ;  O  chief  of  Clora,  hear ! 

Or  rideft  thou  on  a  beam,  amidft  the  dark  trouble  of  clouds  ?  Poureft  thou  the 
ioud  wind  on  ftas,  to  roll  their  blue  waves  over  ifles  ?  hear  me,  lather  of  Gaul ; 
amidfl  thy  terro:s,  heai  ! 

The  ruftling  of  eagles  is  heard,  the  murmuring  oaks  fiiake  their  heads  on  the 
hills ;  dreadful  and  pleafant  is  thy  approach,  friend  of  the  dwelling  of  heroes. 

MORNI. 
Who  awakes  me,  in  the  midft  of  my  cloud,  where  my  locks  of  mift  fpread  oh 
the  winds  ?  Mixed  with  the  noife  of  ftreams,  why  rifes  the  voice  of  Gaul  ? 

GAUL. 

My  foes  are  around  mc,  Morni :  their  dark  fhips  defcend  from  their  waves. 
Give  the  fword  cf  Strumon,  that  beam  which  thou  hideft  in  thy  night. 

MORNI,, 


Book  III.        An   E  P I C    P  O  E  M.  285 

On  his  fpear  leans  Fillan  of  Selma*,  in  the  wandering 
of  his  locks.  Thrice  he  raifes  his  eyes  to  Fingal  :  his 
voice  thrice  fails  him,  as  he  fpeaks.  My  brother  could 
not  boall  of  battles  :  at  once  he  ftrides  away.  Bent  over 
a  diftant  flream,  he  Hands  :  the  tear  hangs  in  his  eye. 
He  ftrikes,  at  times,  the  thiftle's  head,  with  his  inverted 
fpear.  Nor  is  he  unfeen  of  Fingal.  Sidelong  he  beholds 
his  fon.  He  beholds  him,  with  biirfting  joy  ;  and  turns, 
amid  his  crowded  foul.  In  filence  turns  the  king  toward 
Mora  of  woods.  He  hides  the  big  tear  with  his  locks. 
At  length  his  voice  is  heard. 

"  First  of  the  fons  of  Morni !  thou  rock  that  defied 
the  florm  !  lead  thou  my  battle,  for  the  race  of  low-laid 
Cormac.  No  boy's  ftaff  is  thy  fpear  :  no  harmlefs  beam 
of  light,  thy  fword.  Son  of  Morni  of  freeds,  behold  the 
foe  !  Deftroy  ! — Fillan,  obferve  the  chief!  He  is  not  calm 
in  ftrife  ;  nor  burns  he,  heedlefs,  in  battle.  My  fon,  ob- 
ferve the  chief !  He  is  llrong  as  Lubar's  ftream,  but  never 
foams  and  roars.  High  on  cloudy  Mora,  Fingal  Ihall  be- 
hold the  war.  Stand,  Offianf,  near  thy  father,  by  the 
falling  ftream.  Raife  the  voice,  O  bards  !  Selma,  move 
beneath  the  fouad.  It  is  my  latter  field.  Clothe  it  over 
with  light.'* 

As  the  fudden  riling  of  winds  ;  or  diftant  rolling  of 
troubled  feas,  when  fome  dark  ghoft,  in  wrath,  heaves 
the  billows  over  an  ille :  an  ille,  the  feat  of  mift,  on  the 
deep,  for  many  dark-brown  years  !  So  terrible  is  the  found 
of  the  hoft,  wide-moving  over  the  field.  Gaul  is  tall 
before  them.  The  Itreams  glitter  within  his  ftrides.  The 
bards  raife  the  fong  by  his  fide.  He  ftrikes  his  Ihie'd  be- 
tween.   On  the  ikixts  of  the  blaft,  the  tuneful  voices  rife. 

"  On 

MORNI. 

Take  the  fword  of  refounding  Strumon  :  I  look  on  thy  war,  my  fon  ;  I  look,  a 
dim  meteor,  from  my  cloud:  bluc-fliielded  Gaul,  deflroy  !" 

*  Clatho  was  the  daughter  of  Cathulla,  kino;  of  Iniflore.  Fingal,  in  one  of  his 
expeditions  to  that  ifland,  fell  in  love  with  Clatho,  and  took  her  to  wife,  after  the 
death  of  Ros-crana,  the  daughter  of  Coimac,  king  of  Ireland. 

Clatho  was  the  mother  of  Ryno,  Fillan,  and  Bofmina,  mentioned  in  the  //aff/e 
cf  Lora.  Fillan  is  often  called  the  fon  of  Clatho,  to  difliiiguifn  him  from  thofe 
fons  which  Fingal  had  by  Ros-crana. 

t  Ullin  being  fent  to  Morven  with  the  body  of  Ofcar,  OlTian  attends  his  father, 
in  quality  of  chief  bard. 


286  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

"  On  Crona,"  faid  the  bards,  "  there  burfls  a  ftream 
by  night.  It  fwells  in  its  own  dark  courfe,  till  morning's 
early  beam.  Then  comes 't  white  from  the  hill,  with  the 
rocks  and  their  hundred  groves.  Far  be  my  fteps  from 
Crona.  Death  is  tumbling  there.  Be  ye  a  llream  from 
Mora,  fons  of  cloudy  Morven  ! 

"  Who  rifes,  from  his  car,  on  Clutha  ?  The  hills  are 
troubled  before  the  king  !  The  dark  woods  echo  around, 
and  lighten  at  his  fteel.  See  him,  amidfc  the  foe,  like 
Colgach's*  fportful  ghofl  ;  when  he  fcatters  the  clouds, 
and  rides  the  eddying  winds  !  It  is  Morni  |  of  bounding 
Heeds  !    Be  like  thy  father,  O  Gaul  ! 

"  Selma  is  opened  wide.  Bards  take  the  trembling 
harps.  Ten  youths  bear  the  oak  of  the  fealt.  A  diftant 
fun-beam  marks  the  hill.  The  dulky  waves  of  the  blaft 
fly  over  the  grafs.  Why  art  thou  filent,  O  Selma  ?  The 
king  returns  with  all  his  fame.  Did  not  the  battle  roar ; 
yet  peaceful  is  his  brow  ?  It  roared,  and  Fingal  over- 
came.    Be  like  thy  father,  O  Fillan  !" 

They  move  beneath  the  fong.  High  wave  their  arms ; 
as  rufliy  fields,  beneath  autumnal  winds.  On  Mora  ftands 
the  king  in  arms.  Mid  flies  round  his  buckler  abroad ; 
as,  aloft,  it  hung  on  a  bough,  on  Cormul's  molly  rock. 
In  filence  I  flood  by  Fingal,  and  turned  my  eyes  on 
Cromla's  ||  wood  ;  left  I  fliould  behold  the  hofl,  and  rufh 
amid  my  fwelling  foul.    My  foot  is  forward  on  the  heath. 

I  glitter- 

*  There  are  fomc  traditions,  but,  I  believe,  of  late  invention,  that  this  Colgach 
vtas  the  fame  with  the  Ga!t;acus  of  Tacitos.  He  was  the  anceflor  of  Gaul,  the  fon 
Ci  Morni,  and  appears,  fiom  fonie,  really  ancient,  traditions,  to  have  been  king, 
or  Ver;;obret,  of  the  Caledonians;  and  hence  proceeded  the  pretenfions  of  the  fa- 
mily of  Morni  to  the  thione,  which  created  a  good  deal  of  diflurbance,  both  to 
Coinhal  and  his  fon  Fingal.  The  hrft  was  killed  in  battle  by  that  tribe ;  and  it  was 
after  Fingal  was  grown  up,  that  they  were  reduced  to  obedience.  Colgach  fignifies 
jiercely-looking;  which  is  a  very  proper  name  for  a  warrior,  and  is  probably  the  ori- 
gin of  Galgacus,  though  1  believe  it  a  matter  of  mere  conjetlure,  that  the  Colgach 
here  mentione^d  was  the  fame  with  that  hero.  I  cannot  help  obferving,  that  the 
fong  of  the  bards  is  conducled  with  propriety.  Gaul,  whofe  experience  might 
have  rendered  his  conduct  cautious  in  war,  has  the  example  of  his  father,  juft  rufli- 
ing  to  battle,  fet  before  his  eyes.  Fillan,  on  the  other  hand,  whofe  youth  might 
make  him  impetuous  and  unguarded  in  aflion,  is  put  in  mind  of  the  fedate  and 
fereite  behaviour  of  Fingal  upon  like  occafions. 

+  The  expedition  of  Morni  to  Clutha,  alluded  to  here,  is  handed  down  in  tra- 
dition. 

il  The  mountain  Cromla  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  fcene  of  ihis  poem  ; 
v/hich  was  nearly  the  fame  w^ith  that  of  Fingal. 


Book  III.        An  EPIC   POEM.  287 

t  glittered,  tall,  in  fteel ;  like  the  falling  flream  of  Tromo, 
v/hich  nightly  winds  bind  over  with  ice.  The  boy  fees  it, 
on  high,  gleaming  to  the  early  beam  :  toward  it  he  turns 
his  ear,  and  wonders  why  it  is  fo  filent  ! 

Nor  bent  over  a  flream  is  Cathmor,  like  a  youth  in  a 
peaceful  field.  Wide  he  drew  forward  the  war,  a  dark 
and  troubled  wave.  But,  when  he  beheld  Fingal  on  Mo- 
ra, his  generous  pride  arofe :  "  Shall  the  chief  of  Atha 
fight,  and  no  king  in  the  field  ? — Foldath,  lead  my  people 
.forth.     Thou  art  a  beam  of  fire  !*' 

Forth  iifues  Foldath  of  Moma,  like  a  cloud,  the  robe 
of  ghofls.  He  drew  his  fword,  a  flame,  from  his  fide. 
He  bade  the  battle  move.  The  tribes,  like  ridgy  waves, 
dark  pour  their  ftrength  around.  Haughty  is  his  ftridc 
before  them.  His  red  eye  rolls  in  wrath.  Fie  calls  Cormul 
chief  of  Dunratho*,  and  his  words  were  heard. 

"  CoRMUL,  thou  beholdeft  that  path.  It  winds  green  be- 
hind the  foe.  Place  thy  people  there,  left  Selma  fhould  ef- 
cape  from  my  fword. — Bards  of  green-valleyed  Erin,  let  no 
voice  of  yours  arife.  The  fons  of  Morven  muft  fall  with- 
out fong.  They  are  the  foes  of  Cairbar.  Hereafter  fliall 
the  traveller  meet  their  dark,  thick  mift  on  Lena,  where 
it  wanders,  with  their  ghofts,  befide  the  reedy  lake.  Never 
ihall  they  rife,  without  fong,  to  the  dwelling  of  winds.'* 

CoRMUL  darkened,  as  he  went.  Behind  him  ruflied 
his  tribe.  They  funk  beyond  the  rock.  Gaul  fpoke  to 
Fillan  of  Selma  ;  as  his  eye  purfued  the  courfe  of  the 
dark-eyed  chief  of  Dunratho.  "  Thou  beholdeft  the  fteps 
of  Cormul  !  Let  thine  arm  be  ftrong  !  When  he  is  low, 
fon  of  Fingal,  remember  Gaul  in  wr.r.  Here  I  fall  forward 
into  battle,  amid  the  ridge  of  fliields." 

The  fign  of  death  afcends  ;  the  dreadful  found  of 
Morni's  fnield  !  Gaul  pours  his  voice  between.  Fingal 
rifes  on  Mora.  He  faw  them,  from  wing  to  wing,  bend- 
ing 

*  Dun-ratho,  a  hill  with  a  plain  en  its  top.  Corm-uil,  f>lue  eye.  Foldath  dif- 
patclits,  here,  Cormul  to  lie  in  ambufh  behind  the  army  ot"  the  Cakdonians.  This 
ipcech  fuits  with  the  charafter  of  Foldath,  which  is,  throiishout,  h;iu^hty,  and 
prefumptuous.  Towards  the  latter  end  of  this  fpeech,  we  find  the  opinion  of  the 
times,  concerning  the  unhappinels  of  the  foals  of  thofe  who  wen  buried  without 
the  funeral  fong.  This  dottrine  was  inculcated  by  the  bards,  to  make  their  order 
xcfpeftable  and  necelTary. 


288  T    E    M    O    R    A : 

ing  at  once  in  (Irife.  Gleaming,  on  his  own  dark  hill^ 
ftood  Cathmor  of  flreamy  Atha.  The  kings  were  like 
two  fpirits  of  heaven,  ftanding  each  on  his  gloomy  cloud  ; 
when  they  pour  abroad  the  winds,  and  lift  the  roaring 
feas.  The  blue-tumbling  of  waves  is  before  them,  mark- 
ed with  the  paths  of  whales :  they  themfelves  are  calm 
and  bright :  the  gale  lifts  flowly  their  locks  of  mill ! 

What  beam  of  light  hangs  high  in  air  ?  What  beam, 
but  Morni's  dreadful  fword  !  Death  is  ftrewed  on  thy 
paths,  O  Gaul  !  I'hou  folded  them  together  in  thy  rage. 
Like  a  young  oak,  falls  Tur-lathon*,  with  his  branches 
round  him.  His  high-bofomed  fpoufe  flretches  her  white 
arms,  in  dreams,  to  the  returning  chief,  as  fhe  fleeps  by 
gurgling  Moruth,  in  her  difordered  locks.  It  is  his  ghoft, 
Oichoma.  The  chief  is  lowly  laid.  Hearken  not  to  the 
winds  for  Turlathon's  echoing  fhield.  It  is  pierced,  by 
his  ftreams.    Its  found  is  pall  away. 

Nor  peaceful  is  the  hand  of  Foldath.  He  winds  his 
courfe  in  blood.  Connal  met  him  in  fight.  They  mixed 
their  clanging  fteel.  Why  fhould  mine  eyes  behold  them  ! 
Connal,  thy  locks  are  grey !  Thou  wert  the  friend  of 
llrangers,  at  the  mofs-covered  rock  of  Dun-lora.  When 
the  ikies  were  rolled  together,  then  thy  feall  was  fpread. 
The  flranger  heard  the  winds  without,  and  rejoiced  at 
thy  burnino-  oak.  Whv,  fon  of  Duth-caron,  art  thou  laid 
in  blood  !  The  blafted  tree  bends  above  thee  :  thy  fhield 
lies  broken  near.  Thy  blood  mixes  with  the  ftream  ;  thou 
breaker  of  the  fliields  ! 

OssiAN  took  the  fpear,  in  his  wrath.  But  Gaul  rufhed 
forward  on  Foldath.  The  feeble  pafs  by  his  fide:  his 
x\?ie  is  turned  on  Moma's  chief.  Now  they  had  raifed 
rheir  deathful  fpears  :  unfeen  an  arrow  came.  It  pierced 
the  hand  of  Gaul.  His  fteel  fell  founding  to  earth.  Young 
Fillan  camef ,  with  Cormul's  fliield.  He  ftretched  it  large 
before  the  chief.     Foldath  fent  his   fliouts   abroad,  and 

kindled 

■  Tur-lathon,  broad  trunk  of  a  tree.     Moruih,  great  Jlream.     Oichaoina,  mild 
...id.     Dun-lora,  the  hill  of  tkc  noify  fiream.     Duth-caron,  dark-brown  man. 

^  Lilian  had  been  difpatcheci  by  Gaul  to  oppol'c  Cormul,  who  had  been  fent  by 
isjldaili  (o  lie  in  ambulh  behnul  ihc  Caledonian  armv.  It  appears  thnt  Fillan  had 
killed  Cormul,  othcrwife  he  could  not  be  fuppofed  rohave  poiTefled  himfelf  of 
th-  fliieiu  of  that  chief. 


Book  III.        An   EPIC   POEM.  289 

idndled  all  the  field  ;  as  a  blaft  that  lifts  the  wide-winged 
flame,  over  Lumon's  echoing  groves*. 

"  Son  of  blue-eyed  Clatho,"  faid  Ganl,  "  O  Fillan, 
thou  art  a  beam  from  heaven  ;  that,  coming  on  the  trou- 
bled deep,  binds  up  the  tempeft's  wing.  Cormul  is  fallen 
before  thee.  Early  art  thou  in  the  fame  of  thy  fathers. 
Rulh  not  too  far,  my  hero.  I  cannot  lift  the  fpear  to  aid. 
1  ftand  harmlefs  in  battle.  But  my  voice  fhall  be  poured 
abroad.  The  fons  of  Selma  Ihall  hear,  and  remember  my 
former  deeds." 

His  terrible  voice  rofe  on  the  wind.  The  hofl  bends 
forward  in  fight.  Often  had  they  heard  him,  at  Strumon, 
when  he  called  them  to  the  chace  of  the  hinds.  He  ftands 
tall,  amid  the  war,  as  an  oak  in  the  fkirts  of  a  ftorm, 
which  now  is  clothed  on  high  in  mill  ;  then  fliews  its 
broad,  waving  head.  The  niufmg  hunter  lifts  his  eye, 
from  his  own  rufhy  field  ! 

My  foul  purfues  thee,  O  Fillan,  through  the  path  of 
thy  fame.  Thou  rolledft  the  foe  before  thee.  Now  Fol- 
dath,  perhaps,  may  fly :  but  night  comes  down  with  its 
clouds.  Cathmor's  horn  is  heard  on  high.  The  fons  of 
Selma  hear  the  voice  of  Fingal,  from  Mora's  gathered 
mill:.  The  bards  pour  their  fong,  like  dew,  on  the  re- 
turning war. 

"  Who  comes  from  Strumon,"  they  faid,  "  amid  her 
wandering  locks  ?  She  is  mournful  in  her  fteps,  and  lifts 
her  blue  eyes  toward  Erin.  Why  art  thou  fad,  Evir- 
choma  |  ?  Who  is  like  thy  chief  in  renown  ?  He  defcend- 
ed  dreadful  to  battle ;  he  returns,  like  a  light  from  a 
cloud.  He  raifed  the  fword  in  wrath  :  they  flirunk  be- 
fore blue-ihielded  Gaul  ! 

"  Joy,  like  the  ruftling  gale,  comes  on  the  foul  of  the 
king.  He  remembers  the  battles  of  old  ;  the  days,  where- 
in his  fathers  fought.  The  days  of  old  return  on  Fingal's 
mind,  as  he  beholds  the  renown  of  his  fon.  As  the  fun 
rejoices,   from  his  cloud,  over  the  tree  his  beams  have 

O  o  raifed, 

*  Lumon,  bending  hill;  a  mountain  in  Inis-huna,  or  that  part  of  South-Britain 
which  is  over-againfi  the  Irifh  coaft. 

f  Evir-choama,  mild  and  (lately  maid,  the  wife  of  Gaul.  She  was  the  daugh* 
ter  of  Cafdu-conglafs,  chief  of  I-dronlo,  one  of  the  Hebrides, 


290  T    E    M    O    11    A: 

raifed,  as  it  fliakes  its  lonely  head  on  the  heath  ;  lb  joy 
ful  is  the  king  over  Fillan  ! 

"  As  the  rolling  of  thunder  on  hills,  when  Lara*s  fields 
are  ftill  and  dark,  fuch  are  the  (teps  of  Selma,  pleafant  and 
dreadful  to  the  ear.  They  return  with  their  found,  like 
eagles  to  their  dark-browed  rock,  after  the  prey  is  torn 
on  the  field,  the  dun  fons  of  the  bounding  hind.  Your 
fathers  rejoice  from  their  clouds,  fons  of  ftreamy  Selma  !'* 

Such  was  the  nightly  voice  of  bards,  on  Mora  of  the 
hinds.  A  flame  rofe,  from  an  hundred  oaks,  which  winds 
had  torn  from  Cormui's  fteep.  The  feall  is  fpread  in  the 
midit ;  around  fat  the  gleaming  chiefs.  Fingal  is  there 
in  his  ftrength.  The  eagle-wing*  of  his  helmet  founds. 
The  ruftling  blafts  of  the  weft,  unequal,  rufli  thro*  night. 
Long  looks  the  king  in  filence  round :  at  length,  his  words 
are  heard. 

"  My  foul  feels  a  want  in  our  joy.  I  behold  a  breach 
among  -my  friends.  The  head  of  one  tree  is  low.  The 
fqually  wind  pours  in  on  Selma.  Where  is  the  chief  of 
Dun-lora  ?  Ought  Connal  to  be  forgot  at  the  feaft  ? 
When  did  he  forget  the  ftranger,  in  the  midft  of  his 
echoing  hall  ?  Ye  are  filent  in  my  prefence !  Connal  is, 
then,  no  more.  Joy  meet  thee,  O  warrior,  like  a  ftream 
of  light.  Swift  be  thy  courfe  to  thy  fathers,  along  the 
roaring  winds.  Offian,  thy  foul  is  fire :  kindle  the  me- 
mory of  the  king.  Awake  the  battles  of  Connal,  when 
firt'L  he  flione  in  war.  The  locks  of  Connal  were  grey. 
Kis  days  of  youth  f  werQ  mixed  with  mine.  In  one  day 
Duth-caron  firft  ftrung  our  bows,  againft  the  roes  of  Dun- 
lora. 

^''  Many,"  I  faid,  "  are  our  paths  to  battle,  in  green- 
valiied  Erin.     Often  did  our  fails   arife,  over  the  blue- 
tumbling 

*  The  kings  of  Caledonia  and  Ireland  had  a  plume  of  eagle's  feathers,  by  way 
of  ornament,  in  their  helmets.  It  was  from  this  diflinguifhed  maik  that  OfiiaH 
knew  Cathmor,  in  the  fecond  book. 

t  After  the  death  of  Comhal,  and  during  the  ufurpation  of  the  tribe  of  Morni, 
Fingal  was  educated  in  private  by  Duth-caron.  It  was  then  he  contracted  that  in- 
timacy with  Connal  the  fon  of  Duth-caron,  which  occalions  his  regretting  fo  much 
his  fall.  When  Fingal  was  prown  up,  he  foon  reduced  the  tribe  of  Morni  ;  and, 
as  it  appears  from  the  fubfequ;-nt  cpifode,  fent  Duth-caron  and  his  Ion  Connal  to 
the  aid  of  Con.-.ac,  the  fon  of  Conar,  king  of  Ireland,  who  vs'as  driven  to  tfee  laft 
extremity,  by  the  infuireftions  of  the  Fii-bolg.  This  epifode  throws' farther  light 
on  the  conteifts  between  the  Gael  and  Fir-bolg. 


Book  III.        An  EPIC   POEM.  291 

tumbling  waves  ;  when  we  came,  in  other  days,  to  aid 
the  race  of  Conar.  The  ftrife  roared  once  in  AInecma, 
at  the  foam-covered  ftreams  of  Duth-iila*.  With  Cormac 
defcended  to  battle  Duth-caron  from  woody  Seinia.  Nor 
defcended  Duth-caron  alone  ;  his  fon  was  by  his  iide,  the 
long-haired  youth  of  Connal  lifting  the  fird  of  his  fpears. 
Thou  didft  command  them,  O  Fingal,  to  aid  the  king  of 
Erin. 

"  Like  the  burfting  flrength  of  ocean,  the  fons  of  Bolga 
rullied  to  war.  Colc-ullaf  was  before  them,  the  chief  of 
blue-ftreaming  Atha.  The  battle  was  mixed  on  the  plain, 
Cormac  ||  flione  in  his  own  if  rife,  bright  as  the  forms  of 
his  fathers.  But,  far  above  the  reil,  Duth-caron  hewed 
down  the  foe.  Nor  flept  the  arm-  of  Connal,  by  his  fa- 
ther's fide.  Colc-ulla  prevailed  on  the  plain  :  like  fcat- 
tered  mill,  fled  the  people  of  Cormac  §. 

"  Then  rofe  the  fword  of  Duth-caron,  and  the  fleel  of 
broad-fhielded  Connal.  They  fhaded  their  flying  friends, 
like  two  rocks  with  their  heads  of  pine.  Night  came 
down  on  Duth-illa  :  filent  firode  the  chiefs  over  the  field. 
A  mountain-flream  roared  acrofs  the  path,,  nor  could 
Duth-caron  bound  over  its  courfe.  "  Why  flands  my  fa- 
ther ?"  faid  Connal.    "  I  hear  the  ruffling  foe." 

'-  Fly,  Connal,"  he  faid.    "  Thy  father's  Rrength  be- 

*  Duth-iila,  a  river  in  Connaught ;  it  lignilies,  dark-rujlmg  zi-ater. 

I  Colc-ulia,  jirm  look  in  nadinefs;  he  was  the  brother  of  Borbar-duthul,  the  fa- 
tlicr  of  Cairbar  and  Cathmor,  who,  after  the  death  of  Cormac,  the  fon  of  Artho, 
fucceffively  mounied  the  Iri ill  throne.      » 

I  Cormac,  the  fon  of  Conar,  the  ferond  king  of  Ireland,  of  the  race  of  the  Ca- 
ledonians. This  infurreciion  of  the  Fir- bolo- happened  towards  the  latter  end  of 
the  long  reign  of  Cormac.  He  never  poifeffed  the  Irifli  throne  peaceablv.  The 
party  of  the  family  of  Atha  had  made  feveial  attempts  to  overturn  the  fuccellion  in 
the  race  of  Conar,  before  they  effefted'it,  -in  the  minority  of  Cormao,  the  fon  of 
Artho.  Ireiand,  from  the  moll  ancifnt  accounts  concerning  it,  feems  to  have  been 
always  fo  difhubed  by  domeflic  commotions,  that  it  is  difficult  to  fay,  whether  it 
ever  was,  for  any  length  of  time,  fubjeftto  one  monarch.  It  is  certain,  tliat  eveiy 
province,  if  not  every  iuiuli  uiitriCi,  had  its  own  king.  One  of  thefe  petty  piinces 
alfumed,  at  times,  the  title  of  king  of  Ireland,  and,  on  actoant  of  his  fifperior  force, 
or  in  cafes  ef  pubhc  danger,  was  acknowledged  by  the  rell  as  Inch  ;  but  the  fuc- 
cefhon  from  fatiiei  to  ion,  does  not  appear  to  have  been  eflabliflicd.  It  was  the 
d  1  villous  aiTiongit  tliemfelvcs,  anfmg  from  the  bad  conilitution  of  their  govem- 
nu  at,   that,  at  lait,  fubjecicd  the  Irifli  to  a  foreign  yoke.  •  ^    , 

(j  The  inhabitants  of  UUin  or  Uilicr,  who  were  of  the  race  of  the  Caledonians, 
leem,  alone,  to  have  been  the  firm  fiiends  to  the  fucceflion  in  the  family  of  Conar. 
The  Fir-bolg  were  only  fubjeQ  to  theia  bv  c.jnfhaint,  and  cmbiaced  every  oppor- 
tunity to  throw  off  their  vokc. 


292  T    E    M    O    R    A  : 

gins  to  fail.  I  come  wounded  from  battle.  Here  let  me 
rell;  in  night."  "  But  thou  (halt  not  remain  alone,"  faid 
Connal's  burfting  figh.  "  My  fliield  is  an  eagle's  wing, 
to  cover  the  king  of  Dun-lora."  He  bends  dark  above 
his  father.    The  mighty  Duth-caron  dies. 

"  Day  rofe,  and  night  returned.  No  lonely  bard  ap- 
peared, deep-mufmg  on  the  heath  :  and  could  Connal 
leave  the  tomb  of  his  father,  till  he  fliould  receive  his 
fame .?  He  bent  the  bow  againft  the  roes  of  Duth-ula. 
He  fpread  the  lonely  feaft.  Seven  nights  he  laid  his  head 
on  the  tomb,  and  faw  his  father  in  his  dreams.  He  faw 
liim  rolled,  dark,  in  a  blaft,  like  the  vapour  of  reedy 
Lego.  At  length  the  fteps  of  Colgan  *  came,  the  bard  of 
high  Temora.  Duth-caron  received  his  fame,  and  bright- 
ened, as  he  rofe  on  the  wind." 

"  Pleasant 

*  Colgan,  the  fon  of  Cathmul,  was  the  principal  bard  of  Corroac,  king  of  Ire- 
land. The  following  dialogue,  on  the  loves  of  Fingal  and  Ros-crana,  may  be  af- 
cribed  to  him, 

ROS-CRANA. 

BY  night,  cAne  a  dream  to  Ros-crana!  I  feel  my  beating  foul.  No  vifion  of 
the  forms  of  ihe  dead,  came  to  the  blue  eyes  of  Erin.  But,  rifingfrom  the 
wave  of  the  north,  I  beheld  him  brioht  in  his  locks.  1  beheld  the  fon  of  the  king. 
Mv  beating  foul  is  high.  I  laid  my  head  down  in  night;  again  afcended  the  form. 
Why  delayeil  thou  thy  coming,  young  rider  of  flormy  waves  I 

But,  there,  far-diilant,  he  comes ;  where  fcas  roll  their  green  ridges  in  mill ! 
Young  dweller  of  my  foul ;  why  doil  thou  dela) — 

FINGAL. 

It  was  the  foft  voice  of  Moi-lena !  The  pleafant  breeze  of  the  valley  of  roes! 
But  why  dofl  thou  hide  thee  in  fliades  !*  Young  love  of  heroes,  rife.  Are  not  thv 
fleps  covered  with  light  ?  In  thy  groves  thou  appeareft,  Ros-crana,  like  the  fun  in 
the  gathering  of  clouds.     Why  doft  thou  hide  thee  in  fhades  ?  Young  love  of  he- 

''°"'  "'^-  ROS-CRANA. 

My  fluttering  foul  is  high !  Let  me  turn  from  the  fteps  of  the  king.  He  has 
heard  my  fecret  voice,  and  fhal!  my  blue  eyes  roll,  in  his  prefence  ?  Roe  of  the 
hill  of  mofs,  toward  thy  dwelling  I  move.  Meet  me,  ye  breezes  of  Mora,  as  I 
move  through  the  valley  of  winds.  But  why  fliould  he  afcend  his  ocean?  Son  of 
heroes,  my  foul  is  thine  !  My  lieps  fhall  not  move  to  the  defart :  the  light  of  Ros- 
cranatshere.  FINGAL. 

It  was  the  light  tread  of  a  ghofl,  the  fair  dweller  of  eddying  winds.  Why  de- 
ceiveft  thou  me,  with  thy  voice?  Here  let  me  reft  in  fliadcs.  Shouldft  thou  Uretch 
thy  white  arm,  from  thy  grove,  thou  fun-beam  of  Cormac  of  Erin  ! 

ROS-CRANA. 

He  is  gone  !  and  my  blue-eyes  are  dim;  faint  rolling,  in  all  my  tears.  But, 
there,  I  behold  him,  alone;  king  of  Selma,  my  foul  is  thine.  Ah  me!  what 
clanging  of  armour !  Cok-ulla  of  Atha  ii  near  ! 


Book  III.        An   EPIC   POEM. 


293 


"  Pleasant  to  the  ear,"  faid  Fingal,  "  is  the  praife 
of  the  kings  of  men  ;  when  their  bows  are  flrong  in  bat- 
tle ;  when  they  foften  at  the  fight  of  the  fad.  Thus  let 
my  name  be  renowned,  when  bards  Ihall  lighten  my  rifmg 
foul.  Carril,  fon  of  Kinfena !  take  the  bards,  and  raife 
a  tomb.  To-night  let  Connal  dwell  within  his  narrow 
houfe.  Let  not  the  foul  of  the  valiant  wander  on  the 
winds.  Faint  glimmers  the  moon  on  .Moi-Iena,  through 
the  broad-headed  groves  of  the  hill !  Raife  ftones,  beneath 
its  beam,  to  all  the  fallen  in  war.  Though  no  chiefs  were 
they,  yet  their  hands  were  ftrong  in  fight.  They  were  my 
rock  in  danger  :  the  mountain,  from  which  I  fpread  my 
eagle-wings.  Thence  am  I  renowned.  Carril,  forret 
not  the  low  !" 

Loud,  at  once,  from  the  hundred  bards,  rofe  the  fcng 
of  the  tomb.  Carril  Pcrode  before  them :  they  are  the 
murmur  of  ftreams  behind  his  fteps.  Silence  dwells  in  the 
vales  of  Moi-lena,  where  each,  with  its  own  dark  rill,  is 
winding  between  the  hills.  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  bards, 
leil'ening,  as  they  moved  along.  I  leaned  forward  on  my 
Ihield,  and  felt  the  kindling  of  my  foul.  Half-formed, 
the  words  of  my  fong  burfl  forth  upon  the  wind.  So  bears 
a  tree,  on  the  vale,  the  voice  of  fpring  around.  It  pours 
its  green  leaves  to  the  fun.  It  lliakes  its  lonely  head.  The 
hum  of  the  mountain-bee  is  near  it :  the  hunter  fees  it, 
with  joy,  from  the  blailed  heath. 

Young  Fillan,  at  a  diitance  ftood.  His  helmet  lay  glit- 
tering on  the  ground.  His  dark  hair  is  loofe  to  the  blaft. 
A  beam  of  light  is  Clatho's  fon !  He  heard  the  words  of 
the  king,  with  joy.    He  leaned  forward  on  his  fpear. 

"  My  fon,"  faid  car-borne  Fingal,  "  I  faw  thy  deeds, 
and  my  foul  v/as  glad.  The  fame  of  our  fathers,  I  faid, 
burfts  from  its  gathering  cloud.  Thou  art  brave,  fon  of 
Clatho  ;  but  headlong,  in  the  flrife.  So  did  not  Fingal 
advance,  though  he  never  feared  a  foe.  Let  thy  people  be 
a  ridge  behind.  They  are  thy  ftrcngth  in  the  field.  Then 
dialt  thou  be  long  renowned,  and  behold  the  tombs  of 
the  old. — The  memory  of  the  pafl  returns,  my  deeds  in 
other  years  ;  v/hen  firfl  I  defcendcd  from  ocean  on  the 
green-valleyed  ifle," 

We 


294  T    E    M    O    R    A. 

We  bend  towards  the  voice  of  the  king.  The  moon 
looks  abroad  from  her  cloud.  The  grey-ikirted  mill  is 
near  ;  .the  dwelling  of  the  ghofts  ! 


T  E  M  O  R  A 


T       E       M       O       R       A 

A  N 

EPIC         POEM. 
BOOK    IV. 


ARGUMENT. 


THE  fecond  night  continues.  Fingal  relates,  at  the  feaft,  his  own  firft  expedition 
into  Ireland,  and  his  marriage  with  Ros-crana,  the  daughter  of  Cormac,  king  of 
that  Ifland.  The  Irifh  chiefs  convene  in  the  prefence  of  Cathmor.  The  fitua- 
tion  of  the  king  defcribed.  The  ftory  of  Sul-malla,  the  daughter  of  Conmor, 
kinCT  of  Inis-huna,  who,  in  the  difguife  of  a  young  warrior,  had  followed  Cath- 
mor to  the  war.  The  fallen  behaviour  of  Foldath,  who  had  commanded  in  the 
battle  of  the  preceding  day,  renews  the  difference  between  him  and  Malthos; 
but  Cathmor,  interpofing,  ends  it.  The  chiefs  feaft,  and  hear  the  fong  of  Fonar 
the  bard.  Cathmor  returns  to  reft,  at  a  diftance  from  the  army.  The  ghoft  of 
his  brother  Cairbar  appears  to  him  in  a  dream ;  and  obfcurely  foretels  the  ilTue 
of  the  war.  The  foliloquy  of  the  king.  He  difcovers  Sul-malla.  Morning 
comes.     Her  foliloquy  doles  the  book. 

*  "  T>ENE ATH  an  oak,"  faid  the  the  king,  "  I  fat  on 
-O  Selma's  ftreamy  rock,  when  Connal  rofe,  from 
the  fea,  with  the  broken  fpear  of  Duth-caron.  Far-dif- 
tant  flood  the  youth.  He  turned  away  his  eyes.  He  re- 
membered the  fteps  of  his  father,  on  his  own  green  hills. 
I  darkened  in  my  place.  Dulky  thoughts  flew  over  my 
foul.  The  kings  of  Erin  rofe  before  m.e.  I  half-unflieath- 
ed  the  fword.  Slowly  approached  the  chiefs.  They  lifted 
up  their  filent  eyes.  Like  a  ridge  of  clouds,  they  wait  for 
the  burfting  forth  of  my  voice.  My  voice  was,  to  them, 
a  wind  from  heaven,  to  roll  the  mill  away. 

"  I  BADE 

*  This  epifode  has  an  imtnediate  connexion  with  the  ftory  of  Connal  and  Duth- 
earon,  in  the  latter  end  of  the  third  book.  Fingal,  fitting  beneath  an  oak,  near 
the  palace  of  Selma,  difcovers  Connal  juft  landing  from  Ireland.  The  danger 
•which  tlireatened  Cormac  king  of  Ireland  induces  him  to  fail  immediately  to  that 
ifland.  The  ftory  is  introduced,  by  the  king,,  as  a  pattern  for  the  future  behaviour 
of  Fillan,  whofe  raflinefs  in  the  preceding  battle  is  reprimanded. 


2g6 


T    E    M    O    R    A  : 


"  I  BADE  my  white  fails  to  rife,  before  the  roar  of  Co- 
na's  wind.  Three  hundred  youths  looked,  from  their 
waves,  on  Fingal's  boHy  fhield.  High  on  the  mafl  it 
hung,  and  marked  the  dark-blue  fea.  But  when  night 
came  down,  I  flruck,  at  times,  the  warning  bofs:  I  ftruck, 
and  looked  on  high,  for  fiery-haired  Ul-erin  *.  Nor  ab- 
fent  was  the  ftar  of  heaven.  It  travelled  red  between  the 
clouds.  I  purfued  the  lovely  beam,  on  the  faint-gleaming 
deep.  With  morning,  Erin  rofe  in  mift.  We  came  into 
the  bay  of  Moi-lena,  where  its  blue  waters  tumbled,  in 
the  bofom  of  echoing  woods.  Here  Cormac,  in  his  fe- 
cret  hall,  avoids  the  llrength  of  Colc-ulla.  Nor  he  alone 
avoids  the  foe.  The  blue-eye  of  Ros-cnina  is  there  :  Ros- 
crana  f,  white-handed  maid,  the  daughter  of  the  king ! 

"  Grey,  on  his  pointlefs  fpear,  came  forth  the  aged 
fteps  of  Cormac.  He  fmiled,  from  his  waving  locks  ;  but 
grief  was  in  his  foul.  He  faw  us  few  before  him,  and  his 
Ugh  arofe.  *'  I  fee  the  arms  of  Trenmor,'*  he  faid;  "  and 
thefe  are  the  fteps  of  the  king  !  Fingal !  thou  art  a  beam 
of  light  to  Cormac's  darkened  foul.  Early  is  thy  fame, 
my  fon :  but  ftrong  are  the  foes  of  Erin.  They  are  like 
the  roar  of  ftreams  in  the  land,  fon  of  car-borne  Com- 
hal!"  "  Yet  they  may  be  rolled  ||  away,"  I  faid,  in  my 
rifmg  foul.  "  We  are  not  of  the  race  of  the  feeble,  king 
of  blue-fhielded  hofts !  Why  fhould  fear  come  amongll 
us,  like  a  ghoft  of  night?  The  foul  of  the  valiant  grows, 
when  foes  increafe  in  the  field.  Roil  no  darknefs,  king 
of  Erin,  on  the  young  in  war  1'* 

'^  The  burfting  tears  of  the  king  came  down.  He  feiz- 
ed  my  hand  in  fdence.  "  Race  of  the  daring  Trenmor  1" 
.at  length  he  faid,  "  I  roll  no  cloud  before  thee.  Thou 
burned  in  the  fire  of  thy  fathers.    I  behold  thy  fame.    It 

marks 

*  Ul-erln,  the  guide  to  Ireland,  a  flar  known  by  that  name  in  the  days  of  Fingal, 
and  verv  ufeful  to  thofe  who  failed,  by  nicht,  from  the  Hebrides,  or  Caledonia,  to 
the  coai'l  of  Ulficr. 

+  Ros-crana,  t/ie  beam  cif  the  rifing  fun;  fhe  was  the  mother  of  OfTian.  The 
Infli  bards  relate  ftrange  fittions  concerning;  this  princefs.  Their  flories,  however, 
concerning  Fingal,  if  they  mean  him  by  Fion  Mac-Cmnnal,  are  fo  inconfiftent  and 
notor.oufly  fabulous,  that  they  do  not  cleferve  to  be  mentioned  ;  for  they  evidently 
bear,  along  v.itb  them,  the  marks  of   late  invention. 

II  Cormac  had  faid  that  (he  foes  were  like  the  roar  of  Jlreavis,  and  Fingal  conti- 
nues the  metaphor.  The  fpeech  of  the  young  hero  is  fpiritcd,  and  confiflent  with 
that  icuatc  iutrepiditv,  which  eminently  difilngulfiies  his  charafter  throughout. 


Book  IV.        An  EPIC   POEM.  297 

marks  thy  courfe  In  battle,  like  a  flream  of  light.  But 
wait  the  coming  of  Cairbar*:  my  fon  mull  join  thy  fword. 
He  calls  the  fons  of  Erin,  from  all  their  diltant  flreams." 

"  We  came  to  the  hall  of  the  king,  where  it  rofe  in 
the  midft  of  rocks,  on  whole  dark  fides,  were  the  marks 
of  dreams  of  old.  Broad  oaks  bend  around  with  their 
mofs.  The  thick  birch  is  waving  near.  Half-hid,  in  her 
fliady  grove,  Ros-crana  raifes  the  fong.  Her  white  hands 
move  on  the  harp.  I  beheld  her  blue-rolling  eyes.  She 
was  like  a  fpirit  f  of  heaven  half-folded  in  the  ikiit  of  a 
cloud  ! 

"  Three  days  we  feaft  at  Moi-lena.  She  rifes  bright 
in  my  troubled  foul.  Cormac  beheld  me  dark.  He  gave 
the  white-bofomed  maid.  She  comes,  with  bending  eye, 
amid  the  wandering  of  her  heavy  locks.  She  came  ! — 
Straight  the  battle  roared.  Colc-ulla  appeared  :  I  took 
my  fpear.  My  fword  rofe,  with  my  people,  againfl  the 
ridgy  foe.  Alnecma  fled.  Colc-ulla  fell.  Fingal  return- 
ed with  fame. 

P  p  "  Re- 

*  Cairbar,  the  fon  of  Cormac,  was  afterwards  king  of  Ireland.  His  rei'^n  was 
fliort.  He  was  fucceeded  by  his  fon  Artho,  the  father  of  that  Coiuiac  who  was 
iuurdered  by  Cairbar  tlie  Ion  of  Borbar-duthul.  Cairbar,  the  fon  of  Cormac,  long 
after  his  fon  Artho  was  grown  to  man's  cftatc,  had,  by  his  wife  Beltanno,  another 
Ion,  whole  name  was  Ferad-artho.  He  was  the  only  one  remaining  of  the  race  of 
Conar  the  firft  king  ot  Ireland,  when  Fingal's  expedition  againlt  Cairbar  the  foa  of 
Borbar-duthul  happened.     See  more  of  Ferard-urtho  in  the  eighth  book. 

t  The  attitude  of  Ros-crana  is  illuftrated  by  this  fimile ;  for  the  iiic-as  of  iholl; 
times,  concerning  the  fpirlts  of  the  deceafcd,  were  not  fo  gloomy  and  difagreeablc, 
as  thofe  of  fucceeding  ages.  The  fpirits  of  women,  it  was  itippoled,  retained  ihac 
beauty,  which  they  polfelfed  while  living,  and  tranfported  themfelves,  fiom  place 
to  place,  with  that  gliding  motion,  which  Homer  alcribcs  to  the  gods.  The  dc- 
Icnptions  which  poets,  lefs  ancient  than  Ofilan,  have  left  us  of  thole  beautihil  fi- 
gures, that  appeared  fometimcs  on  the  hills,  are  elegant  and  piclureltiuc.  They 
compare  them  to  the  rain-bow  on  Jlreams ;  or,  the  gliding  ofjun-beams  on  the  hilh. 

A  chief,  who  lived  three  centuries  ago,  returning  from  the  war,  underliood  thdt 
his  wife  or  miftrefs  was  dead.  A  bard  introduces  him  fpeaking  the  following  foli- 
loquy,  when  he  came  within  fight  of  the  place,  where  he  had  left  her,  at  his  de- 
parture. 

"  My  foul  darkens  In  forrow.     I  behold  not  the  fmoke  of  my  hall.     Xo  grey  - 
dog  bounds  at  my  ftreams.     Silence  dwells  in  the  valley  of  trees. 

"  Is  that  a  rain-bow  on  Crunath  ?  It  flies ;  and  the  fkv  is  daik.  Again,  thoa 
moveft,  bright,  on  the  heath,  thou  fun-beam  clothed  in  a  fliower  I  Huh!  it  is  Ihc, 
my  love  ;  her  gliding  courfe  on  the  bofom  of  winds  !"' 

In  fucceeding  times  the  beauty  of  Ros-crana  palfed  into  a  proveib;  ami  the  high- 
eft  compliment,  that  could  be  paid  to  a  woman,  was  to  compare  her  pcvlbn  with 
the  daughter  of  Cormac. 

'S  tu  fein  an  Ros-crana. 

Siol  Chormaec  na  n'ioma  Ian, 


2q8  T    E    M    O    R    a  : 


■'Zf 


"  Renowned  is  he,  O  Fillan,  who  fights,  in  the  ftrength 
of  his  hoil.  The  bard  purfues  his  fteps,  through  the  land 
of  the  foe.  But  he  who  fights  alone,  few  are  his  deeds 
to  other  times  !  He  fliines,  to-day,  a  mighty  light ;  to- 
morrow, he  is  low.  One  fong  contains  his  fame :  his 
name  is  on  one  dark  field.  He  is  forgot ;  but  where  his 
tomb  fends  forth  the  tufted  grafs." 

Such  were  the  words  of  Fingal,  on  Mora  of  the  roes. 
Three  bards,  fiom  the  rock  of  Cormul,  pour  down  the 
pleafing  fong.  Sleep  defcends,  in  the  found,  on  the  broad- 
Ikirted  hod.  Carrii  returned,  with  the  bards,  from  the 
tomb  of  Dun-lora's  chief.  The  voice  of  morning  Ihall 
not  come,  to  the  dufky  bed  of  Duth-caron.  No  more 
fiialt  thou  hear  the  tread  of  roes,  around  thy  narrow  houfe  ! 

As  roll  the  troubled  clouds,  round  a  meteor  of  night, 
when  they  brighten  their  fides,  with  its  light,  along  the 
heaving  fea ;  fo  gathers  Erin,  around  the  gleaming  form 
of  Cathmor.  He,  tall  in  the  midft,  carelefs  lifts,  at  times, 
his  fpear  ;  as  fwells  or  falls  the  found  of  Fonar's  diftant 
harp.  *Near  him  leaned,  againfl  a  rock,  Sul-mallaf  of 
blue  eyes,  the  white-bofomed  daughter  of  Conmor,  king 
of  Inis-huna.  To  his  aid  came  blue-fhielded  Cathmor, 
and  rolled  his  foes  away.  Sul-malla  beheld  him  ftately  in 
the  hall  of  feafls.  Nor  carelefs  rolled  the  eyes  of  Cath- 
mor on  the  long-haired  maid  !  rp 

*  In  order  to  illuflrate  this  pafTage,  I  fliall  give,  here,  the  hiflory  on  which  it  is 
founded,  as  I  have  gathered  it  froin  tradition.  The  nation  of  the  Fir-bolg  who 
inhabited  the  fouth  of  Ireland,  being  originally  defcended  from  the  Belg£,  who 
poffcffed  the  fouth  and  fouth-weft  coaft  of  Britain,  kept  up,  for  many  ages,  an  ami- 
cable conefpondence  with  their  mothei-country ;  and  fent  aid  to  the  Britilh  Beige, 
when  liiey  were  prefTed  by  the  Romans  or  other  new-comers  from  the  continent. 
Con-nior,  king  of  Inis-huna,  (that  part  of  South-Britain  which  is  over  againfl  the 
Irifh  coaft)  being  attacked,  by  what  enemy  is  not  mentioned,  fent  for  aid  to  Cair- 
lar,  lord  of  Atha,  the  moft  potent  chief  of  the  Fir-bolg.  Cairbar  difpatched  his 
brother  Cathmor  to  the  affiRance  of  Con-mor.  Cathmor,  after  various  viciffitudes 
of  fortune,  put  an  end  to  the  war,  by  the  total  defeat  of  the  enemies  of  Inis-huna, 
and  returned  in  triumph  to  the  refidence  of  Con-mor.  There,  at  a  feaft,  Sul-malla, 
the  daughter  of  Con-mor,  fell  defperately  in  love  with  Cathmor,  who,  before  her 
pallion  was  difclofed,  was  recalled  to  Ireland  by  his  brother  Cairbar,  upon  the 
news  of  the  intended  expedition  of  Fingal  to  re-ellablifh  the  family  of  Conar  on 
the  Iiini  ihione.  The  wind  being  contrary,  Cathmor  remanicd,  for  three  days,  in 
a  neighbouring  bay,  during  which  time  Sul-malla  difguiled  hcrlcll  in  the  habit  of 
a  young  warrior,  and  came  to  otfer  him  her  fervice,  in  the  war.  Cathmor  accept- 
ed of  the  propofal,  failed  for  Ireland,  and  arrived  in  UHter  a  few  days  before  the 
death  of  Cairbar. 

*  Sul-malla,_/Zoa7v-m'/i'«^  fva.   Caon-mor,  miUl  aiul  tall.    Inis-huna,  green  ijland. 


Book  IV.        An  EPIC    POEM.  599 

The  third  day  arofe,  when  Fithil*  came,  from  Erin  of 
the  ftreams.  He  told  of  the  lifting  up  of  the  fliieldf  in 
Selma  :  he  told  of  the  danger  of  Cairbar.  Cathmov  raifed 
the  fail  at  Cluba :  but  the  winds  were  in  other  lands. 
Three  days  he  remained  on  the  coaft,  and  turned  his  eyes 
on  Conmor's  halls.  He  remembered  the  daughter  of 
ftrangers,  and  his  figh  arofe.  Now,  when  the  winds 
awaked  the  wave,  from  the  hill  came  a  youth  in  arms  ; 
to  lift  the  fword  with  Cathmor,  in  his  echoing  fields.  It 
was  the  white-armed  Sul-malla.  Secret  fhe  dwelt  beneath 
her  helmet.  Her  fleps  were  in  the  path  of  the  king  :  on 
him  her  blue  eyes  rolled  with  joy,  when  he  lay  by  his  roar- 
ing ftreams !  But  Cathmor  thought,  that,  on  Lumon,  Ihe 
ftill  purfued  the  roes.  He  thought  that,  fair  on  a  rock, 
Ihe  ftretched  her  white  hand  to  the  wind  ;  to  feel  its  courfe 
from  Erin,  the  green  dwelling  of  her  love.  He  had  pro- 
mifed  to  return,  v/ith  his  white-bofomed  fails.  The  maid 
is  near  thee,  O  Cathmor !  leaning  on  her  rock. 

The  tall  forms  of  the  chiefs  (land  around  ;  all  but  dark- 
browed  Foldathjj.  He  leaned  againft  a  diftant  tree,  rolled 
into  his  haughty  foul.  His  buihy  hair  whiftles  in  wind. 
At  times,  burlls  the  hum  of  a  fong.    He  ftruck  the  tree, 

at 

*  Fithil,  an  inferior  bard.  It  mav  either  be  taken  here  for  the  proper  name  of 
a  man,  or  in  the  hteral  fenfe,  as  the  bards  were  the  heralds  and  meilengeis  or  thole 
times.  Cathmor,  it  is  probable,  was  abfent,  when  the  rebellion  of  his  brother 
Cairbar,  and  the  afTaffination  of  Cormac,  king  of  Ireland,  happened.  Cathmor 
and  his  followers  had  only  arrived,  from  Inis-lmna,  three  days  before  the  death  of 
Cairbar,  which  lufficicntly  clears  his  charafler  from  any  imputation  ot  being  con- 
cerned in  the  conipiracy,  with  his  brother. 

t  The  ceremony  which  was  ufed  by  Fingal,  when  he  prepared  for  an  expedition, 
is  related  thus  in  tradition.  A  bard,  at  midnight,  went  to  the  hall,  where  the 
tribes  feafled  upon  folemn  occafions,  raifed  the  war  fong,  and  thrice  called  the  Ipi- 
rits  of  their  deceafcd  ancellors  to  come,  on  their  clouds,  to  behold  the  aftion";  ot 
their  children.  He  then  fixed  \\\c  field  of  Trenmor  on  a  tree,  on  the  rock  of  Sel- 
ma, ftriking  it,  at  times,  with  the  blunt  end  of  a  fpear,  and  Cnging  the  wai-long 
between.  Thus  he  did,  for  three  fuccefTive  nights,  and,  in  the  mean  time,  mc'- 
fengers  were  difpatched  to  call  together  the  tribes ;  or,  to  ufe  an  ancient  expreflion, 
to  call  them  from  all  their  jlreanu.  This  phrafe  alludes  to  the  fituation  of  tUt;  r.-fi- 
dences  of  the  clans,  which  were  generally  fixed  in  valleys,  where  the  torrents  ot 
the  neighbouring  mountains  were  coUefted  into  one  body,  and  became  large  ftreams 
or  rivers.     The  If  ting  up  of  the  field,  was  the  phrafe  for  beginning  a  war, 

|]  The  furly  attitude  of  Foldath  is  a  proper  preamble  to  his  aher-behaviour. 
Chaffed  with  the  difappointmcnt  of  the  viftory  which  he  piomifed  himlclt,  he  be- 
comes paffionate  and  over-bearing.  The  quarrel  which  fucceeds  between  him  and 
Malthos,  is  introduced,  to  raife  the  charafter  of  Cathmor,  whofe  fuperior  worth 
fhines  forth,  in  his  manly  manner  of  ending  the  difference  between  the  chiefs. 


300  T    E    M    O    R    A; 

at  length,  in  wrath  ;  and  rudied  before  the  king.  Calm 
and  ftately,  to  the  beam  of  the  oak,  arofe  the  form  of 
young  Hidalla.  His  hair  falls  round  his  blufhing  cheek, 
in  wreaths  of  waving  light.  Soft  was  his  voice  in  Clon-ra*, 
in  the  valley  of  his  fathers.  Soft  was  his  voice,  when  he 
touched  the  harp  in  the  hall,  near  his  roaring  ftreams ! 

"  King  of  Erin,"  faid  Hidalla,  "  now  is  the  time  to 
feaft.  Bid  the  voice  of  bards  arife.  Bid  them  roll  the 
nigkt  away.  The  foul  returns,  from  fong,  more  terrible 
to  war.  Darknefs  fettles  on  Erin.  From  hill  to  hill  bend 
the  fl^irted  clouds.  Far  and  grey,  on  the  heath,  the  dread- 
ful ftrides  of  ghofls  are  feen  :  the  ghofts  of  thofe  who 
fell,  bend  forward  to  their  fong.  Bid,  O  Cathmor,  the 
harps  to  rife,  to  brighten  the  dead,  on  their  wandering 
blafts." 

"  Be  all  the  dead  forgot,"  faid  Foldath's  burfting  wrath. 
"  Did  not  I  fail  in  the  field  ?  Shall  I  then  hear  the  fong  ? 
Yet  was  not  my  courfe  harmlefs  in  war.  Blood  was  a 
flream  around  my  fteps.  But  the  feeble  were  behind  me. 
The  foe  has  efcaped  from  my  fword.  In  Clonra's  vale 
touch  thou  the  harp.  Let  Dura  anfwer  to  the  voice  of 
Hidalla.  Let  fome  maid  look,  from  the  wood,  on  thy 
long,  yellow  locks.  Fly  from  Lubar's  echoing  plain. 
This  is  the  field  of  heroes  !" 

"  King  of  Erinf,"  Malthos  faid,  "  it  is  thine  to  lead 
in  war.  Thou  art  a  fire  to  our  eyes,  on  the  dark-brown 
iield.  Like  a  blail  thou  haft  paft  over  hofts.  Thou  haft 
laid  them  low  in  blood.  But  who  has  heard  thy  words, 
returning  from  the  field  ?  The  wrathful  delight  in  death  : 
their  remembrance  refts  on  the  wounds  of  their  fpear. 
Strife  is  folded  in  their  thounhts  :  their  words  are  ever 

o 

Jieard.  Thy  courfe,  chief  of  Moma,  was  like  a  troubled 
itream.  The  dead  were  rolled  on  thy  path  :  but  others 
-alfo  lift  the  fpear.  We  were  not  feeble  behind  thee  ;  but 
the  foe  was  ftrong." 

Cathmor 

*  Claon-rath,  winding  fidi.  The  tli  are  feldom  pronounced  audibly  in  the  Ga- 
lic  Ian;2;uaoc. 

t  This  I'p^cch  of  Malthos  is,  throughout,  a  fevere  reprimand  to  the  blunering 
behaviour  of  Foidath, 


Book  IV.        An  EPIC    POEM.  301 

Cathmor  beheld  the  rifing  rage,  and  bending  for- 
ward, of  either  chief;  for,  half-unfheathed,  they  held  their 
fwords,  and  rolled  their  filent  eyes.  Now  would  they  have 
mixed  in  horrid  fray,  had  not  the  wrath  of  Cathmor  burn- 
ed. He  drew  his  fword  :  it  gleamed,  through  night,  to 
the  high-flaming  oak  !  "  Sons  of  pride  !"  faid  the  king, 
"  allay  your  fwelling  fouls.  Retire  in  night.  Why  fbould 
my  rage  arife  ?  Should  I  contend  with  both  in  arms  ?  It 
is  no  time  for  ftrife  !  Retire,  ye  clouds  at  my  feail.  A- 
wake  my  foul  no  more." 

They  funk  from  the  king  on  either  fide  ;  like  *  two 
columns  of  morning  mift,  when  the  fun  rifes  between 
them,  on  his  glittering  rocks.  Dark  is  their  rolling  on 
either  fide  ;  each  toward  its  reedy  pool. 

Silent  fat  the  chiefs  at  the  feail.  They  look,  at  times, 
on  Atha's  king,  where  he  ftrode,  on  his  rock,  amid  his 
fettling  foul.  The  hofl  lie  along  the  field.  Sleep  defcends 
on  Moi-lena.  The  voice  of  Fonar  afcends  alone,  beneath 
his  diftant  tree.  It  afcends  in  the  praife  of  Cathmor,  fon 
of  Larthonf  of  Lumon.  But  Cathmor  did  not  hear  his 
praife.  He  lay  at  the  roar  of  a  ftreani.  The  ruIUing  breeze 
of  night  flew  over  his  whiftling  locks. 

His  brother  came  to  his  dreams,  half-feen  from  his 
low-hung  cloud.    Joy  rofe  darkly  in  his  face.     He  had 

heard 

*  This  comparifon  is  favourable  to  tlie  fuperioritv  of  Cathmor  over  his  two 
cliiefs.  I  fhall  ilhiftratc  this  pafl"ar:;e  with  another  from  a  fragment  of  an  ancient 
poem,  juft  now  in  my  hands.  "  As  the  fun  is  above  the  vapours,  winch  hir>  beams 
have  raifed;  fo  is  the  foul  of  the  king  above  tiie  fons  of  fear.  They  roll  dark  be- 
low him ;  he  rejoices  in  the  robe  of  his  beams.  But  when  feeble  deeds  wander  on 
the  foul  of  the  kinp^,  he  is  a  darkened  fun  rolled  alono;  the  fky  ;  the  valley  is  fad 
below  :   flowers  wither  beneath  the  drops  of  the  night." 

t  Lear-thon,  ytvz  wave,  the  name  of  the  chief  of  that  colony  of  the  Fir-bo!g, 
which  firft  migrated  into  Ireland.  Larthon's  full  fettlement  in  that  country  is  re- 
lated in  the  feventh  book.  He  was  the  anceflor  of  Cathmor  ;  and  is  here  called 
Larthon  of  Lumon,  from  a  high  hill  of  that  name  in  Inis-huna,  the  ancienr  Icat  of 
the  Fir-bolg.  The  character  of  Cathmor  is  preferved.  He  had  mentioned,  in  the 
firft  book,  the  averfion  of  that  chief  to  praife,  and  we  find  him  here  lying  at  the 
fide  of  a  ftream,  that  the  noife  of  it  might  drown  the  voice  of  Fonar,  who,  accord- 
ing to  the  cuftom  of  the  times,  fung  his  eulogium  in  his  evening  fong.  Though 
other  chiefs,  as  well  as  Cathmor,  might  be  averfe  to  hear  their  own  praife,  we  find 
it  the  univerfal  policy  of  the  times,  to  allow  the  bards  to  be  as  extravagant  as  they 
pleafed  in  their  encomiums  on  the  leaders  of  armies,  in  the  prefence  of  their  peo- 
ple. The  vulgar,  who  had  no  great  ability  to  judge  for  themfelves,  received  the 
chara£lers  of  their  priuces,  entirely  upon  the  faith  of  their  bards. 


302 


T    E    M    O    R    A: 


heard  the  fong  of  Carril*.  A  blaft  fuflalned  his  dark- 
Ikirted  cloud  ;  which  he  feized,  in  the  bofom  of  night, 
as  he  rofe,  with  his  fame,  towards  his  airy  hall.  Half- 
mixed  with  the  noife  of  the  ilream,  he  poured  his  feeble 
words. 

"  Joy  meet  the  foul  of  Cathmor.  His  voice  was  heard 
on  Moi-lena.  The  bard  gave  his  fong  to  Cairbar.  He  tra- 
vels on  the  wind.  My  form  is  in  my  father's  hall,  like  the 
gliding  of  a  terrible  light,  which  darts  acrofs  the  defart, 
in  a  flormy  night.  No  bard  (hall  be  wanting  at  thy  tomb, 
when  thou  art  lowly  laid.  The  fons  of  fong  love  the  va- 
liant. Cathmor,  thy  name  is  a  pleafant  gale. — The  mourn- 
ful founds  arife  !  On  Lubar's  field  there  is  a  voice  ! 
Louder  Hill,  ye  lliadowy  ghofls !  The  dead  were  full  of 
fame.  Shrilly  fwells  the  feeble  found !  The  rougher  blaft 
alone  is  heard  !  Ah,  foon  is  Cathmor  low  !"  Rolled  into 
himfelf,  he  flew,  wide  on  the  bofom  of  winds.  The  old 
oak  felt  his  departure,  and  Ihook  its  whiftling  head. 
Cathmor  ftarts  from  reft.  He  takes  his  deathful  fpear. 
He  lilts  his  eyes  around.    He  fees  but  dark-lkirted  night. 

"  It  I  was  the  voice  of  the  king,"  he  faid.  "  But  now 
his  form  is  gone.  Unmarked  is  your  path  in  the  air,  ye 
children  of  the  nighc.  Often,  like  a  refleded  beam,  are 
ye  feen  in  the  defart  wild :  but  ye  retire  in  your  blafls, 
before  our  fteps  approach.  Go  then,  ye  feeble  race  I 
Knowledge  with  you  there  is  none !  Your  joys  are  weak, 
and  like  the  dreams  of  our  reft,  or  the  light-winged 
thought,  that  flies  acrofs  the  foul.  Shall  Cathmor  foon 
be   low  ?    darkly  laid  in   his  narrow  houfe  ?     where  no 

morning 

*  Carril,  the  fon  of  Kinfena,  by  the  orders  of  OITian,  fung  the  funeral  elegy  at 
the  tomb  of  Cairbar.  See  the  fecond  book,  towards  the  end.  In  all  thefe  poems, 
the  vifits  of  <^ho{ls,  to  their  living  friends,  are  lliort,  and  their  language  obfcure, 
both  which  circumllances  tend  to  throw  a  folemn  gloom  on  thefe  fupernatural 
fcenes.  Towards  the  latter  end  of  the  fpeech  of  the  ghoft  of  Cairbar,  he  foreteis 
the  death  of  Cathmor,  by  enumerating  thofe  fignals  which,  according  to  the  opi- 
nion of  the  times,  preceded  the  death  of  a  perfon  renowned.  It  was  thought  that 
the  ghofls  of  deceafed  bards  fung,  for  three  nights  preceding  the  death  (near  the 
place  where  his  tomb  was  to  be  raifed)  round  an  unfubllantial  figure  which  repre- 
iented  the  body  of  the  perfon  who  was  to  die. 

t  The  foliloijuv  of  Cathmor  fuits  the  magnanimity  of  his  charafter.  Though 
fta3;gered  at  firll  witii  the  prediclion  of  Cairbar's  ghoft,  he  foon  comforted  himfelf 
with  ilic  agreeable  profpeft  of  his  future  renown ;  and,  like  Achilles,  prefers  a 
fliort  and  glorious  life,  to  an  obfcure  length  of  years  in  retirement  and  cafe. 


Book  IV.        An   EPIC    POEM. 


3^3 


morning  comes,  with  her  half-opened  eyes  ?  Away,  thou 
fhade !  to  fight  is  mine !  All  further  thought,  away  !  I 
rufli  forth,  on  eagle-wings,  to  feize  my  beam  of  fame.  In 
the  lonely  vale  of  ftreams,  abides  the  narrow  *  foul.  Years 
roll  on,  feafons  return,  but  he  is  ftill  unknown.  In  a  blafl 
comes  cloudy  death,  and  lays  his  grey  head  low.  His 
ghoft  is  folded  in  the  vapour  of  the  fenny  field.  Its  courfe 
is  never  on  hills,  nor  moflfy  vales  of  wind.  So  Ihall  not 
Cathmor  depart.  No  boy  in  the  field  was  he,  v/ho  only 
marks  the  bed  of  roes,  upon  the  echoing  hills.  My  iffuing 
forth  was  wdth  kings  :  my  joy,  in  dreadful  plains  ;  where 
broken  hofls  are  rolled  away,  like  feas  before  the  wind.'* 

So  fpoke  the  king  of  Alnecma,  brightening  in  his  fifing 
foul.  Valour,  like  a  pleafant  flame,  is  gleariiing  within 
his  breaft.  Stately  is  his  ftride  on  the  heath !  The  beam 
of  eaft  is  poured  around.  He  faw  his  grey  hoft  on  the 
field,  wide-fpreading  their  ridges  in  light.  He  rejoiced, 
like  a  fpirit  of  heaven,  whofe  Heps  come  forth  on  the  feas, 
when  he  beholds  them  peaceful  around,  and  all  the  winds 
are  laid  :  but  foon  he  awakes  the  waves,  and  rolls  them 
large  to  fome  echoing  fliore. 

On  the  rufliy  bank  of  a  ftream,  flept  the  daughter  of 
Inis-huna.  The  helmet  had  fallen  from  her  head.  Her 
dreams  were  in  the  lands  of  her  fathers.  There,  morning 
is  on  the  field.  Grey  ftreams  leap  down  from  the  rocks. 
The  breezes,  in  Ihadowy  waves,  fly  over  the  rufliy  fields. 

There, 

*  An  indolent  and  unwarlike  life  was  held  in  extreme  contempt.  Whatever  si 
philofopher  may  fay,  in  praife  of  quiet  and  retirement,  I  am  far  from  thinking, 
but  they  weaken  and  debafe  the  human  mind.  When  the  faculties  of  the  foul  air 
not  exerted,  they  lofe  their  vigour,  and  low  and  circumfcribed  notions  take  the 
place  of  noble  and  enlarged  ideas.  Aftion,  on  the  contrary,  and  the  %'icifiitudcs 
of  fortune  which  attend  it,  call  forth,  by  turns,  all  the  powers  of  the  mind,  and, 
by  exercifing,  ftrengthen  them.  Hence  it  is,  that  in  great  and  opulent  Hates, 
when  property  and  indolence  are  fecuicd  to  individuals,  we  feldom  meet  with  that 
ftrength  of  mind,  which  is  fo  common  in  a  nation,  not  far  advanced  in  civilization. 
It  is  a  curious,  but  juft  obfeivation,  that  great  kingdoms  feldom  produce  great  cha- 
rafters,  which  mull  be  attributed  altogether  to  that  indolence  and  diflipation,  which 
are  the  iiileparable  companions  of  too  much  property  and  fecurity.  Rome,  it  is 
certain,  had  more  real  great  men  within  it,  when  its  power  was  conHned  within 
the  narrow  bounds  of  Lamm,  than  when  its  dominion  extended  over  ail  the  known 
world;  and  one  petty  fiate  of  the  Saxon  heptarchy  had,  perhaps,  as  much  genuine 
fpirit  in  it,  as  the  two  Britilh  kingdoms  united.  As  a  ftate  they  are  much  morc 
powerful  than  their  ancellors,  but  they  would  lofe  by  comparin-;  iad'.vidu;iU  wuU 
ihcm. 


304  T    E    xVI    O    R    A  : 

There,  is  the  found  that  prepares  for  the  chace.  There^ 
the  moving  of  warriors  from  the  hall.  But  tall,  above  the 
reft,  is  feen  the  hero  of  ftreamy  Atha.  He  bends  his  eye 
of  love  on  Sul-malla,  from  his  ftately  fteps.  She  turns, 
with  pride,  her  face  away,  and,  carelefs,  bends  the  bow. 

Such  were  the  dreams  of  the  maid,  when  Cathmor  of 
Atha  came.  He  faw  her  fair  face  before  him,  in  the  midft 
of  her  wandering  locks.  He  knev/  the  maid  of  Lumon. 
What  fhould  Cathmor  do?  His  fighs  arife.  His  tears 
come  down.  But  ftraight  he  turns  away.  "  This  is  no 
time,  king  of  Atha,  to  awake  thy  fecret  foul.  The  battle 
is  rolled  before  thee,  like  a  troubled  ftream." 

He  ftruck  that  warning  bofs*,  wherein  dwelt  the  voice 
of  war.  Erin  rofe  around  him,  like  the  found  of  eagles- 
wings.  Sul-malla  flarted  from  jQeep,  in  her  difordered 
locks.  She  feized  the  helmet  from  earth.  She  trembled 
in  her  place.  "  Why  fhould  they  know,  in  Erin,  of  the 
daughter  of  Inis-huna  ?"  She  remembered  the  race  of 
kings.  The  pride  of  her  foul  arofe  !  Her  fteps  are  be- 
hind a  rock,  by  the  blue-winding  ftream  |  of  a  vale ; 
where  dwelt  the  dark-brown  hind,  ere  yet  the  war  arofe. 
Thither  came  the  voice  of  Cathmor,  at  times,  to  Sul- 
malla's  ear.  Her  foul  is  darkly  fad.  She  pours  her  words: 
on  wind. 

"  The  dreams  of  Inis-huna  departed.  They  are  dif- 
perfed  from  my  foul.  I  hear  not  the  chace  in  my  land. 
I  am  concealed  in  the  fkirt  of  war.  I  look  forth  from  my 
cloud  :  no  beam  appears  to  light  my  path.  I  behold  ray 
warrior  low ;  for  the  broad-fhielded  king  is  near,  he  that 
overcomes  in  danger,  Fingal  from  Selma  of  fpears  !  Spirit 
of  departed  Conmor  !  are  thy  fteps  on  the  bofom  of 
winds  ?  Comeft  thou,  at  times,  to  other  lands,  father  of 
fad  Sul-malla  ?  Thou  doft  come !  I  have  heard  thy  voice 
at  night  j  while  yet  I  rofe  on  the  wave  to  Erin  of  the 

ftream  s. 

*  In  order  to  undcrflnnd  this'paffage,  it  is  nectfTary  to  look  to  the  defcrip'ion  of 
Cathrr.or's  ihield  in  the  fcventh  book.  This  fliitld  had  feven  principal  bodes,  the 
lound  of  each  of  which,  when  flruck  with  a  fpear,  conveyed  a  particular  order 
from  the  king  to  his  tribes.  The  found  of  one  of  them,  as  here,  was  the  fignal  fov 
the  army  to  affemblc. 

f  This  ^A\1S  not  the  valh-y  of  Lona  to  which  Sul-malla  afterwards  retired. 


Book  IV.        An   EPIC   POEM.  onr. 

flreams.  The  ghofts  of  fathers,  they  fay  *,  call  away  the 
fouls  of  their  race,  while  they  behold  them  lonely  in  the 
midil  of  woe.  Call  me,  my  father,  away  !  When  Cath- 
mor  is  low  on  earth,  then  ffiall  Sul-malla  be  lonely  in  the 
midft  of  woe  !" 

*  Con-mor,  the  father  of  Sul-raalia,  was  killed  in  that  war,  from  which  Cnthmor 
delivered  Inis-huna.  Lormar  his  ion  fucceeded  Conmor.  It  was  the  opinion  of 
the  times,  when  a  perfon  was  reduced  to  a  pitch  of  miicry,  which  could  aduiii  of 
no  alleviation,  tiiat  the  gholls  of  his  anceflors  raZ/f^/wi-yoj^  cawy.  This  fupeina- 
lural  kind  of  death  was  called  the  voice  af  the  dead;  and  is  believed  by  the  fupeittiti- 
ous  vulgar  to  this  day. 

There  is  no  people  in  the  world,  peihaps,  who  give  more  univerfal  credit  to  ap- 
paritions, and  the  vifits  of  tlie  t;hofls  of  the  deccaXtd  to  their  friends,  thaji  the  an- 
cient Scots.  This  IS  to  be  attributed  as  much,  at  leaft,  to  the  fituation  of  the  coun- 
try they  poITefs,  as  to  that  credulous  diipolition  which  diftinguiflies  an  unenlighten- 
ed people.  As  their  bafincfs  was  feeding  of  cattle,  in  dark  and  extenfive  defarts, 
fo  their  journeys  lay  over  wide  and  unfrequented  heaths,  where,  often,  they  were 
obliged  to  fleep  in  the  open  air,  amidft  the  whiftling  of  winds,  and  roar  of  water- 
falls. The  gloominefs  of  the  fcenes  around  them  was  apt  to  beget  that  meiancholv 
dilpofition  •f  mirid,  which  mod  readily  receives  impreffioES  of  the  extraordinary 
and  fupernatural  kind.  Falling  afleep  in  this  gloomy  mood,  and  their  dreams  be- 
ing diliurbed  by  the  noife  of  the  elements  around,  it  is  no  matter  of  wonder,  that 
they  thought  they  heard  the  xioice  of  the  dead.  This  voice  of  the  dead,  however, 
was,  perhaps,  no  more  than  a  fhriller  whiftle  of  the  winds  in  an  old  tree,  or  in 
the  chinks  of  a  neighbouring  rock.  It  is  to  this  caufe  I  afcribe  thofe  many  and  im- 
probable tales  of  ghofls,  which  we  meet  with  in  the  Highlands;  for,  in  other  re- 
ipetls,  we  do  not  find  that  the  Inhabitants  are  more  credulous  than  their  neighbours. 


0  q  TEMORA 


>^  i 


r      E       M       O       R       A: 

A  N 

EPIC         POEM. 
B  O  O  K    V. 


ARGUMENT. 


THE  poet,  alter  a  Iliort  addrefs  to  the  harp  of  Cona,  defcrlbes  the  arrangement  of 
both  armies  on  either  fide  of  the  river  Lubar.  Fingal  gives  the  command  to  Fil- 
lan ;  but,  at  the  fame  time,  orders  Gaul,  the  fon  of  Morni,  who  had  been 
wounded  in  the  hand  in  the  preceding  battle,  to  aflill  him  with  his  counfel.  The 
army  of  the  Fir-bolg  is  commanded  by  Foldath,  The  general  onfet  is  defcribed. 
The  great  actions  of  Fillan.  He  kills  Rothmar  and  Culmin.  But  when  Fillan 
conquers,  in  one  wing,  Foldath  prefles  hard  on  the  other.  He  wounds  Dernjiid, 
the  fon  of  Duthno,  and  puts  the  whole  wing  to  fliglit.  Dermid  deliberates  with 
himfelf,  and,  at  lafl,  refolves  to  put  a  flop  to  the  progrefs  of  Foldath,  by  engag- 
ing him  in  fingle  combat.  When  the  two  chiefs  were  approaching  towards  one 
another,  Fillan  came  fuddenly  to  the  relief  of  Dermid ;  engaged  Foldath,'  and 
killed  him.  The  behaviour  of  Malthos  towards  the  fallen  Foldath.  Fillan  puts 
the  whole  army  of  the  Fir-bolg  to  flight.  The  book  ciofes  with  an  addrefs  to 
Clatho,  the  mother  of  that  hero. 

THOU  dweller  between  the  fliields,  that  hang,  on 
high,  in  Offian's  hall  !  Defcend  from  thy  place, 
O  harp,  and  let  me  hear  thy  voice  !  Son  of  Alpin,  flrike 
the  firing.  Thou  mud  awake  the  foul  of  the  bard.  The 
murmur  of  Lora's*  ftream  has  rolled  the  tale  away.  I 
fland  in  the  cloud  of  years.  Few  are  its  openings  toward 
the  pafl  ;  and  when  the  vifion  comes,  it  is  but  dim  and 
dark.  I  hear  thee,  harp  of  Selma  !  My  foul  returns,  like 
a  breeze,  which  the  fun  brings  back  to  the  vale,  where 
dwelt  the  lazy  miit ! 

Lubar 

*  Lora  is  often  mentioned  ;  it  was  a  fmall  and  rapid  flrcam  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Selma.  There  is  no  vefiige  of  this  name  now  remaining ;  though  it  appears 
from  a  very  old  fong,  which  the  tranflator  has  feen,  that  one  of  the  fmall  rivers  on 
the  north-weft  coaft  was  called  Lora  fome  centuries  ago. 


3o8 


T    E    M    O    R    A: 


LuBAR  *  is  bright  before  me,  in  the  windings  of  its 
vale.  On  either  fide,  on  their  hills,  rife  the  tall  forms* 
of  the  kings.  Their  people  are  pom-ed  around  them, 
bending  forward  to  their  words  :  as  if  their  fathers  fpoke, 
defcending  from  the  winds.  But  they  themfelves  are  like 
two  rocks  in  the  midft;  each  with  its  dark  head  of  pines, 
when  they  are  feen  in  the  defart,  above  low-failing  mift. 
High  en  their  face  are  ftreams,  which  fpread  their  foam 
on  blalts  of  wind ! 

Beneath  the  voice  of  Cathmor  pours  Erin,  like  the 
found  of  flame.  Wide  they  come  down  to  Lubar.  Before 
them  is  the  flride  of  Foldath.  But  Cathmor  retires  to  his 
hill,  beneath  his  bending  oak.  The  tumbling  of  a  ftream 
is  near  the  king.  He  lifts,  at  times,  his  gleaming  fpear. 
It  is  a  flame  to  his  people,  in  the  midfl;  of  war.  Near  him 
ftands  the  daughter  of  Con-mor,  leaning  on  a  rock.  She 
did  not  rejoice  at  the  ftrife.  Her  foul  delighted  not  in 
blood.  A  valley  f  fpreads  green  behind  the  hill,  with  its 
three  blue  fl.reams.  The  fun  is  there  in  filence.  The  dun 
mountain-roes  come  down.  On  thefe  are  turned  the  eyes 
of  Sul-malla,  in  her  thoughtful  mood. 

FiNGAL  beholds  Cathmor,  on  high,  the  fon  of  Borbar- 
duthul !  he  beholds  the  deep-rolling  of  Erin,  on  the  dark- 
ened plain.  He  fl;rikes  that  warning  bofs,  which  bids  the 
people  to  obey ;  when  he  fends  his  chiefs  before  them,  to 
the  field  of  renown.  Wide  rife  their  fpears  to  the  fun. 
Their  echoing  fliieids  reply  around.    Fear,  like  a  vapour, 

winds 

*  From  feveral  paffages  in  the  poem  we  may  form  a  diRinft  idoa  of  the  fcene  of 
the  aftion  of  Temora.  At  a  fmall  diftance  from  one  another  rofe  the  hills  of  Mo- 
ra and  Lora ;  the  firft  pofTcfftd  by  Fingal,  the  fecond  by  the  army  of  Cathmor. 
Th'-ough  the  intermediate  plain  ran  the  fmal!  river  Lubar,  on  the  banks  of  which 
all  the  battles  were  fought,  excepting;  that  between  Cairbar  and  Ofcar,  related  in 
the  firft  book.  This  laft  mentiocv  d  engagement  happened  to  the  north  of  the  hill 
of  Mora,  of  which  Fin,c;al  took  poffeffion,  after  the  army  of  Cairbar  fell  back  to  that 
of  Cathmor.  At  fome  diilance,  but  within  light  of  Mora,  towards  the  weft,  Lu- 
fear  iffucd  from  the  mountain  of  Crom.mal,  and,  after  a  fhort  courfe  through  the 
plain  of  Moi-lena,  difcharged  itfclf  into  the  fea  near  the  field  of  battle.  Behind 
the  mountain  of  C'ommal  ran  the  fmall  ftream  of  Lavath,  on  the  banks  of  which 
Ferard-artho,  the  fon  of  Cairbre,  the  only  perfon  remaining  of  the  race  of  Conar, 
lived  concealed  in  a  cave,  during  the  ufurpation  of  Cairbar,  the  fon  of  B-orbar- 
duthul. 

t  It  was  to  this  valley  Sul-malla  retired,  during  the  lafl  and  decifive  battle  be- 
tween Fingal  and  Cathmor.  It  is  defcribed  in  the  feventh  book,  where  it  is  calleci 
the  vale  of  Lona,  and  the  refidenceof  a  Druid. 


Book  V.  An  EPIC   POEM.  309 

winds  not  among  the  hoft :  for  he,  the  king,  Is  near,  the 
ftrength  of  flreamy  Sehna.  Gladnefs  brightens  the  hero. 
We  hear  his  words  with  joy. 

"  Like  the  coming  forth  of  winds,  is  the  found  of  Sel- 
ma's  fons !  They  are  mountain  waters,  determined  in  their 
courfe.  Hence  is  Fingal  renowned  :  hence  is  his  name  in 
other  lands.  He  was  not  a  lonely  beam  in  danger ;  for 
your  fleps  were  always  near !  But  never  was  Fingal  a 
dreadful  form,  in  your  prefence,  darkened  into  wrath. 
My  voice  was  no  thunder  to  your  ears.  Mine  eyes  fent. 
forth  no  death.  When  the  haughty  appeared,  I  beheld 
them  not.  They  were  forgot  at  my  feafts.  Like  mift  they 
melted  away. — A  young  beam  is  before  you  !  Few  are  his 
paths  to  v/ar !  They  are  few,  but  he  is  valiant.  Defend 
my  dark-haired  fo-n.  Bring  Filian  back  with  joy.  Here- 
after he  may  Hand  alone.  His  form  is  like  his  fathers. 
His  foul  is  a  flame  of  their  fire.  Son  of  car-borne  Morni ! 
move  behind  the  youth.  Let  thy  voice  reach  his  ear, 
from  the  flvirts  of  war.  Not  unobferved  rolls  battle,  be- 
fore thee,  breaker  of  the  (hields  !" 

The  king  flrode,  at  once,  av/ay  to  Cormul's  lofty  rock. 
Intermitting,  darts  the  light,  from  his  fliield,  as,  flow,  the 
king  of  heroes  moves.  Sidelong  rolls  his  eye  o'er  the 
heath,  as,  forming,  advance  the  lines.  Graceful,  fly  his 
half-grey  locks,  round  his  kingly  features,  now  lightened 
with  dreadful  joy.  Wholly  mighty  is  the  chief !  Behind 
him,  dark  and  flow,  I  moved.  Straight  came  forward  the 
flrength  of  Gaul.  His  flileld  hung  loofe  on  its  thong.  He 
fpoke,  in  hafte,  to  OiTian.  "  Bind  *,  fon  of  Fingal,  this 
fliield !  Bind  it  high  to  the  fide  of  Gaul.  The  foe  may 
behold  it,  and  think  I  lift  the  fpcar.  If  I  fliould  fall,  let 
my  tomb  be  hid  in  the  field  ;  for  fall  I  mud  without  fame. 
Mine  arm  cannot  lift  the  fleel.  Let  not  Evir-choma  hear 
it,  to  blufh  between  her  locks.  Filian,  the  mighty  behold 
us  !  Let  us  not  forget  the  flrife.  Why  fliould  they  come, 
from  their  hills,  to  aid  our  flying  field  ?" 

He  flrode  onward,  with  the  found  of  his  fliield.  My 
voice  purfued  him,  as  he  went.    "  Can  the  fon  of  Morni 

fall, 

*  It  is  neceffaiy  to  remember,  that  Gaul  was  wounded ;  which  occafions  his  re-      J 
.quiring  here  the  affiftance  of  Offian  to  bind  his  fliield  on  his  lide.  ^ 


310  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

fall,  without  his  fame,  in  Erin  ?  But  the  deeds  of  the 
mighty  are  forgot  by  themfelves.  They  rufh  carelefs 
over  the  fields  of  renown.  Their  words  are  never  heard!" 
I  rejoiced  over  the  fteps  of  the  chief.  I  ilrode  to  the  rock 
of  the  king,  where  he  fat,  in  his  wandering  locks,  amid 
the  mountain-wind  ! 

In  two  dark  ridges  bend  the  hofts,  toward  each  other, 
at  Lubar.  Here,  Foldath  rifes,  a  pilkr  of  darkncfs:  there, 
brightens  the  youth  of  Filian.  Each,  v/ith  his  fpear  in 
the  ftream,  fent  forth  the  voice  of  war.  Gaul  ftruck  the 
fliield  of  Selma.  At  once  they  pkmee  in  battle !  Steel 
pours  its  gleam  on  fteel :  like  the  f?li  of  ll reams  ihone  the 
field,  when  they  mix  their  foam  togetlier,  fi^om  two 
dark-browed  rocks  !  Behold  he  comes,  the  fon  ot  fame  ! 
He  lays  the  people  low  I  Death  fits  on  blafts  aroiuid  him ! 
Warriors  ftrew  thy  paths,  O  Filian  ! 

RoTHMAR*,  the  fhield  of  warriors,  flood  betw^een  two 
chinky  rocks.  Two  oaks,  which  winds  had  bent  from 
high,  fpread  their  branches  on  either  fide.  He  rolls  his 
darkening  eyes  on  Filian,  and,  fluent,  fhades  his  friends. 
Fingal  faw  the  approaching  fight.  The  hero's  foul  arofe. 
But  as  the  ftone  of  Lodaj  falls,  fhook,  at  once,  from  rock- 
ing Druman-ard,  when  fpirits  heave  the  earth  in  their 
wrath  ;  To  fell  blue-fhielded  Rothmar. 

Near  are  the  fteps  of  Culmin.  The  youth  came,  burft- 
ing  into  tears.  Wrathful,  he  cut  the  wind,  ere  yet  he 
mixed  his  flrokes  with  Filian.  He  had  firft  bent  the  bow 
with  Rothmar,  at  the  rock  of  his  own  blue  flreams. 
There  they  had  marked  the  place  of  the  roe,  as  the  fun- 
beam 

*  Roth-mar,  the  found  of  thefea  before  ajlorm..    Druman-ard,  high-ridge.    C\x\- 
m\n,  foft-kaircd.     Cul-allin,  bmntiful  locks .     Struthz,  freamy  river. 

+  By  the  flone  of  Loda  is  meant  a  place  of  worfhip  among  the  Scandinavians. 
The  Caledoninns,  in  their  many  expeditions  to.Orkney  and  Scandinavia,  becanu; 
acquainted  with  fome  of  the  lites  of  their  religion,  which  prevailed  in  thofe  coun- 
tries, and  the  ancient  poetry  frequently  alludes  to  them.  There  are  fome  ruins, 
and  circular  pairs  of  ftone,  remaining  ftill  in  Orkney,  and  the  iflands  of  Shetland, 
which  retain,  to  this  day,  the  nam.e  of  Loda  or  Loden.  They  feem  to  have  differed 
materially,  in  their  conftruflion,  from  thofe  Druidical  monuments  which  remain 
in  Britain,  and  the  weflern  ifles.  The  places  of  worfhip  among  the  Scandinavians 
were  originally  rude  and  unadorned.  In  after  ages,  when  they  opened  a  commu-^ 
nication  with  other  nations,  they  adopted  their  manners,  and  built  temples.  That 
at  Upfal,  in  Sweden,  was  amazingly  rich  and  ma;znificent,  Harquin,  of  Norway, 
built  one,  near  Diontheim,  little  inferior  to  the  former;  and  it  went  always  un- 
der the  name  of  Loden.     Mallet,  introduBion  a  Vhijioire  de  Danmmarc. 


BookV,         An  epic    POEM.  311 

beam  flew  over  the  fern.  Why,  fon  of  Cul-allin  !  why, 
Culmin,  dofl:  thou  rufli  on  that  beam*  of  light  ?  It  is  a 
fire  that  confumes.  Son  of  Cul-allin,  retire.  Your  fa- 
thers were  not  equal,  in  the  glittering  flrife  of  the  field. 
The  mother  of  Culmin  remains  in  the  hall.  She  looks 
forth  on  blue-rolling  Strutha.  A  whirlwind  rifes,  on  the 
ftream,  dark-eddying  round  the  ghoft  of  her  fon.  His 
dogs  f  are  howling  in  their  place.  His  fhleld  is  bloody  in 
the  hall.  "  Art  thou  fallen,  my  fair-haired  youth,  in 
Erin's  difmal  war  ?"- 

As  a  roe,  pierced  in  fecret,  lies  panting,  by  her  wonted 
flreams  :  the  hunter  furveys  her  feet  of  wind  :  he  remem- 
bers her  flately  bounding  before  ;  fo  lay  the  fon  of  Cul- 
allin,  beneath  the  eye  of  Fiilan.  His  hair  is  rolled  in  a 
little  flream.  His  blood  wanders  on  his  fhield.  Still  his 
hand  holds  the  fword,  that  failed  him  in  the  midft  of  dan- 
ger. "  Thou  art  fallen,"  faid  Fiilan,  "  ere  yet  thy  fame 
was  heard.  Thy  father  fent  thee  to  war.  He  experts  to 
hear  of  thy  deeds.  He  is  grey,  perhaps,  at  his  flreams. 
His  eyes  are  toward  Moi-lena.  But  thou  fhalt  not  return, 
with  the  fpoil  of  the  fallen  foe  !" 

FiLLAN  pours  the  flight  of  Erin  before  him,  over  the 
refounding  heath.  But,  man  on  man,  fell  Morven  before 
the  dark-red  rage  of  Foldath  ;  for,  far  on  the  field,  he 
poured  the  roar  of  half  his  tribes.  Dermid  flands  before 
him  in  wrath.  The  fons  of  Selma  gathered  around.  But 
his  fhield  is  cleft  by  Foldath.  His  people  fly  over  the 
heath. 

Then  faid  the  foe,  in  his  pride,  "  They  have  fled  ! 

My 

*  The  poet,  metaphorically,  Calls  Fiilan  a  beam  of  light.  Cul-min,  mentioned 
here,  was  the  fon  of  Clonmar,  chief  of  Strutha,  by  the  beautiful  Cul-allin.  She 
was  fo  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  her  perfon,  that  fiie  is  introduced  frequently, 
in  the  fimilies  and  allu.'ions  of  ancient  poetry.  Mar  Chul-aluin  Strutk  naiifisM;  Lcz:dv 
as  Cul-allin  of  Stnttfia  of  the  fiorms. 

+  Dogs  were  thought  to  be  fenfible  of  the  death  of  their  maftsr,  let  it  hapnen  at 
ever  fo  great  a  diflance.  It  was  alfo  the  opinion  of  the  times,  that  the  arms  which 
warriors  left  at  hon.e  became  bloody,  when  they  thsmfelves  fell  in  balttle.  It  was 
fro;r\  thofe  figns  that  Cul-allin  is  fuppofed  to  underfiand  that  her  fon  is  killed  ;  in 
which  fhe  is  confi'med  by  the  appearance  of  bis  ghoif ,  Her  fr.dden  and  !!;ort  ex- 
clamation is  more  judicious  in  the  poet,  than  if  (be  had  extended  her  complaints  to 
a  great'.-,!-  leagth.  The  attitude  of  the  fallen  youth,  and  Fillan's  reflexions  ovet 
hiin,  Ci-me  forcibly  back  on  the  mind,  when  we  confider,  that  the  fuppofed  fittlci- 
tiun  of  the  father  of  Cuhnin,  was  fo  limilar  to  that  of  Fir.gal.  after  the  death  of  fii- 
Idu  himfelf. 


312  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

My  fame  begins  !  Go,  Malthos,  go  bid  Cathmor  guard 
the  dark-rolling  of  ocean  ;  that  Fingal  may  not  efcape 
from  my  fvvord.  He  mufl;  lie  on  earth.  Befide  fome  fen 
fhail  his  tomb  be  feen.  It  fliall  rife  without  a  fong.  His 
ghofl  fhall  hover,  in  mid,  over  the  reedy  pool.'* 

Malthos  heard,  with  darkening  doubt.  He  rolled  his 
filent  eyes.  He  knew  the  pride  of  Foldath.  He  looked 
up  to  Fingal,  on  his  hills  ;  then  darkly  turning,  in  doubt- 
ful mood,  he  plunged  his  fword  in  war. 

In  Clono's*  narrow  vale,  where  bend  two  trees  above 
the  ftream,  dark,  in  his  grief,  ftood  Duthno's  filent  fon. 
The  blood  pours  from  the  fide  of  Dermid.  His  fliield  is 
broken  near.  His  fpear  leans  againft  a  (tone.  Why,  Der- 
mid, why  fo  fad  ?  "  I  hear  the  roar  of  battle.  My  people  are 
alone.  My  fteps  are  flow  on  the  heath  ;  and  no  fhield  is 
mine.    Shall  he  then  prevail  ?  It  is,  thqji,  after  Dermid  is 

low  ! 

*  This  valley  had  its  name  from  Cl©fio,  fon  of  Lethmal  of  Lore,  one  of  the 
.-inctrftors  of  Dermid,  the  fon  of  Dulhno.  His  hiftory  is  thus  related  in  an  old 
poem.  In  the  days  of  Connr,  the  fon  of  Trenmor,  the  fiill  king  of  Ireland,  Clo- 
iio  paffed  over  into  that  kingdom,  from  Caledonia,  to  aid  Conar  againft  the  Fir- 
bolg.  Being  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  his  perfon,  he  foon  drew  the  attention 
of  Sulmin,  the  young  wife  of  an  Irilh  chief.  She  difcl-ofed  her  palTion,  which  was 
not  propeily  returned  by  the  Caledonian.  The  lady  fickened  through  difappoint- 
ment,  and  her  love  for  Clono  came  to  the  ears  of  her  hulband.  Fired  with  jealou- 
fy,  he  vowed  revenge.  Clono,  to  avoid  his  ra^e,  departed  from  Tcmora,  in  or- 
der to  pafs  over  into  Scotland  ;  and,  being  benighted  in  the  valley  mentioned  here, 
he  laid  him  down  to  fleep.  There  Lethmal  defcended  in  the  dreams  of  Clono,  and  told 
him  that  danger  was  near, 

Ghofl  of  LETHMAL. 

'•  Arife,  from  thy  bed  of  mofs  ;  fon  of  low-laid  Lethmal,  arife.  The  found  of 
the  coming  of  foes,  dcfcends  along  the  wind. 

CLONO. 

Whofe  voice  is  that,  like  many  fireams,  in  the  feafon  of  my  reft  ? 
Ghoft  of  LETHMAL. 

Arife,  thou  dweller  of  the  iouls  of  the  lovely;  fon  of  Lethmal,  arife. 
CLONO. 

How  dreary  is  the  night  I  The  moon  is  darkened  in  the  fky  ;  red  are  the  paths  of 
cliofts,  along  its  fuUen  face  !  Green-lkirtcd  meteors  let  around.  Dull  is  the  loar- 
ing  of  dreams,  from  the  valley  of  dim  forms,  I  hear  thee,  fpirit  of  my  father,  on 
the  eddying  cou'fe  of  the  wind.  I  hear  thee  :  but  thou  bendeft  not,  forward,  thy 
tall  form,  from  the  (kins  of  night." 

As  Clono  prepared  to  depart,  the  huPoand  of  Gulmin  came  up,  with  his  numerous 
sttendanis.  Ciono  defended  himfelf,  but,  after  a  giillant  refinance,  he  was  over- 
powered and  llaia.  He  was  buried  in  the  place  where  he  was  killed,  and  the  val- 
iey  was  called  after  his  name.  Dermid,  in  his  requeft  to  Gaul  the  fun  oi  Momi, 
-.vhich  immediately  follows  this  paragraph,  alludes  to  the  tomb  of  Clono,  and  his 
own  couue^iion  wuh  t'nat  mifoiitinate  chief. 


BookV.        An   epic   POEM.  313 

low  !  I  will  call  thee  forth,  O  Foldath,  and  meet  thee  yet 
in  fight." 

FIk  took  his  fpear,  with  dreadful  joy.  The  foil  of  Morni 
came.  "  Stay,  fon  of  Duthno,  ftay  thy  fpeed.  Thy  ftJps 
are  marked  with  blood.  No  boffy  fliield  is  thine.  Why 
lliouldll  thou  fall  unarmed  ?"  "  Son  of  Morni !  give  thou' 
thy  fhield.  It  has  often  rolled  back  the  war.  I  fliall  flop 
the  chief,  in  his  courfe.  Son  of  Morni!  behold  that  ftone  ! 
It  lifts  grey  its  head  through  grafs.  There,  dwells  a  chief 
of  the  race  of  Dermid.    Place  me  there  in  night." 

He  flowly  rofe  againft  the  hill.  He  faw  the  troubled 
field  ;  the  gleaming  ridges  of  battle,  disjoined  and  bro- 
ken around.  As  diftant  fires  on  heath,  by  night,  now 
feem  as  loft  in  fmoke  ;  now  rearing  their  red  ftreams  on 
the  hill,  as  blow  or  ceafe  the  winds  ;  fo  met  the  inter- 
mitting war  the  eye  of  broad-lhielded  Dermid.  Through 
the  hoft  are  the  ftrides  of  Foldath,  like  fome  dark  fhip  on 
wintry  waves,  when  ihe  iifues  from  between  two  illes,  to 
fport  on  refounding  ocean  ! 

Dermid,  with  rage,  beholds  his  courfe.  He  ftrives  to 
rufh  along.  But  he  fails,  amid  his  fteps ;  and  the  big- 
tear  comes  down.  He  founds  his  father's  horn.  He 
thrice  ftiikes  his  boffy  fliield.  He  calls  thrice  the  name 
of  Foldath,  from  his  roaring  tribes.  Foldath,  with  joy, 
beholds  the  chief.  He  lifts  aloft  his  bloody  fpear.  As  a 
rock  is  marked  with  ftreams,  that  fall,  troubled,  down  its 
fide  in  a  ftorm  ;  fo,  ftreaked  with  wandering  blood,  is 
the  dark  chief  of  Moma  !  The  hoft,  on  either  fide,  with- 
draw from  the  contending  of  kings.  They  raife,  at  once, 
their  gleaming  points.  Rufliing  comes  Fillan  of  Selma. 
Three  paces  back  Foldath  withdraws,  dazzled  with  that 
beam  of  light,  which  came,  as  iffuing  from  a  cloud,  to 
fave  the  wounded  chief.  Growing  in  his  pride,  he  ftands. 
He  calls  forth  all  his  fteel. 

As  meet  two  broad-winged  eagles,  in  their  founding 
ftrife,  in  wipds  ;  fo  rufli  the  two  chiefs,  on  Moi-lena,  into 
gloomy  fight.  By  turns  are  the  fteps  of  the  kings*  for- 
ward on  their  rocks  above  ;  for  now  the  dufky  war  feems 
to  defcend  on  their  fwords.     Cathmor  feels  the  joy  of 

R  r  vvarriors 

*  Fing:'.l  and  Ci'thmor, 


3.14  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

wamors,  on  bis  mofiy  hill  ;  their  joy  in  fecret,  when  dan- 
gers jife  to  match  their  fouls.  His  eye  is  not  turned  on 
Lubar^  but  on  Selrna's  dreadful  king.  He  beholds  him, 
on  Mora,  rifmg  in  his  arms. 

FoLDATH  *  falls  on  his  fhield.  The  fpear  of  Fillan 
pierced  the  king.  Nor  looks  the  youth  on  the  fallen, 
but  onward  rolls  the  war.  The  hundred  voices  of  death 
arife.  "  Stay,  fon  of  Fingal,  Itay  thy  fpeed.  Beholdeft 
thou  not  that  gleaming  form,  a  dreadful  fign  of  death  ? 
Awaken  not  the  king  of  Erin.  Return,  fon  of  blue-eyed 
Clatho." 

MALTHOsf  beholds  Foldath  low.  He  darkly  {lands 
above  the  chief.  Hatred  is  rolled  from  his  foul.  He 
feems  a  rock  in  a  defart,  on  whofe  dark  fide  are  the  trick- 
ling of  waters ;  when  the  flow-failing  mifl  has  left  it,  and 
all  its  trees  are  blafled  with  winds.  He  fpoke  to  the  dying 
heroj  about  the  narrow  houfe.  "  Whether  fhall  thy  grey 
ftone  rife  in  Ullin,  or  in  Moma's  jj  woody  land  ?  where 

the 

*  The  fall  of  Fold.ith,  if  we  may  believe  tradition,  was  predifled  to  him,  before 
he  had  left  his  own  country  to  join  Cairbar,  in  his  der)2;ns  on  the  Irifh  throne.  He 
went  to  th'?  cave  of  Moma,  to  enquire  of  the  fpiiits  of  his  fathers,  concerning  the 
fucctfs  of  the  er.ti'iprife  of  Cjirbar.  The  nfponfes  of  oracles  are  always  attended 
with  obfcuiiiy,  aad  liable  to  a  double  meanini^;:  Foldath,  therefore,  put  a  favour- 
able interpr-  tition  on  the  prcdittion,  and  purfued  his  adopted  plan  of  aggrandizing 
himH  If  with  the  fimily  o*^  A:  ha. 

FOL  D  AT  H ,  addrrjjing  the /pints  of  his  fathers. 

"  D?rk,  I  Oand  in  your  prtfence ;  lathers  of  Foldath,  hear.  Shall  my  fteps  pafs 
over  Atha,  lo  Ullin  of  the  rots?" 

The  Anfwcr. 

"  Thy  fteps  Oiall  pafs  over  Atha,  to  the  green  dwelling  of  kings.  There  fhall 
thy  Dature  arife,  over  the  fallen,  like  a  piilar  of  thunder-clouds.  There,  terrible 
in  diiknefs,  (halt  thou  fland,  till  the  refleRed  beam,  or  Cloncath,  of  Moruth,  come; 
Mo  urh  of  many  flreams,   thr.t  roars  in  difiant  lands." 

Clrjur;ith.  or  Tffl'cled  beam,  fay  my  traditional  authors,  was  the  name  of  the 
fwoid  of  Fillan ;  lo  that  it  was,  in  the  latent  finnificatlon  ol  the  word  Cloncath,  that 
the  deception  lay.  My  principal  reafon  for  introducing  this  note,  is,  that  this  tra- 
dition lervesto  fliew,  that  the  religion  of  the  Fir-bolg  differed  fiom  that  of  the  Ca- 
ledoniniis,  as  we  never  find  the  latter  enquiring  of  the  fpirits  of  their  deceafed  an- 
cefiors. 

-!•  The  chnr^f^ers  of  Foldath  and  Maltbos  are  fuflaincd.  They  were  both  dark 
and  fu  Iv,  but  each  in  a  diffeient  way,  Foldath  was  impetuous  and  cruel.  Mal- 
thos  flubhorn  and  incedulous.  Their  attachment  to  the  family  of  Atha  was  equal; 
fheir  bravery  in  battle  the  ijme.  Foldath  was  vain  and  onentatious :  Malthos  un- 
indubent  but  generous.  His  behaviour  here,  towards  his  enemy  Foldath,  fhews, 
that  a  ;  ooi  h-a't  often  lies  conceaied  under  a  gloomy  and  fullen  charafter. 

II  MuKui  was  the  naime  of  a  country  in  the  fouth  of  Connaught,  once  famous  for 
being  the  lefidcuce  of  an  Arth-Diuid.     The  cave  of  Moma  was  thought  to  be  in- 
habited 


BookV.         An  epic   POEM. 


315 


the  fun  looks,  in  fecret,  on  the  blue  ftreams  of  D?J-rutho  *  ? 
There,  are  the  fteps  of  thy  daughter,  blue-eyed  Dardu- 
lena  !" 

"  Rememberest  thou  her/'  faid  Foldath,  "  becaufe 
no  fon  is  mine :  no  youth  to  roil  the  battle  before  him, 
in  revenge  of  me  !  Malthos,  I  am  revenged.  I  was  not 
peaceful  in  the  field.  Raife  the  tombs  of  thofe  I  have 
flain,  around  my  narrow  houfe.  Often  fliall  I  forfake  the 
blaft,  to  rejoice  above  their  graves  ;  when  I  behold  them 
fpread  around,  with  their  long-whiitling  grafs.'* 

His  foul  rufhed  to  the  vale  of  Moma,  to  Dardu-lena's 
dreams,  where  (he  flept,  by  Dal-rutho's  ftream,  returning 
from  the  chace  of  the  hinds.  Her  bow  is  near  the  maid, 
unftrung.  The  breezes  fold  her  long  hair  on  her  breads. 
Clothed  in  the  beauty  of  youth,  the  love  of  heroes  lay. 
Dark-bending,  from  the  Ikirts  of  the  wood,  her  wounded 
father  feemed  to  come.  He  appeared,  at  times ;  then  hid 
himfelf  in  miil.  Burfting  into  tears,  lire  rofe.  She  knew 
that  the  chief  was  low.  To  her  came  a  beam  from  his 
foul,  when  folded  in  its  ftorms.  Thou  wert  the  lajfl  of  his 
race,  O  blue-eyed  Dardu-lena  ! 

Wide-spreading  over  echoing  Lubar,  the  jBight  of 
Bolga  is  rolled  along.  Fillaii  hangs  forward  on  their 
ueps.  He  ftrews,  with  dead,  the  heath.  Fingal  rejoices 
over  his  fon.    Blue-fliielded  Cathmor  rofe  f . 

Son  of  Alpin,  bring  the  harp.     Give  Fillan'a  praife  to 

the 

habited  by  the  fpirits  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Fir-bolg,  and  their  pofterity  fent  to  enquire 
there,  as  to  an  oracle,  concerning  the  ifTue  of  their  wars. 

*  Dal-ru'ath,  parched  or  fandy  Jiild.  The  etymology  of  Dardu-kna  is  uncertain. 
The  daut^hrer  of  Foldath  was,  probably,  fo  called,  from  a  place  in  Ulller,  where 
her  father  had  defeated  part  of  the  adhcreiits  of  Artho,  kin^  of  Ireland,  Dar-du- 
lena;  the  dark  wood  of  Moi-lma.  As  Foldath  was  proud  and  oRentatious,  it  would 
appear,  that  he  transferred  the  name  of  a  place,  where  he  himfelf  had  been  viflo- 
rious,  to  his  daughter. 

+  "  The  fufpence,  in  which  the  mind  of  the  reader  is  left  here,  conveys  the  idea 
of  Fillan's  danger  more  forcibly  home,  than  any  defcription  that  could  be  intro- 
duced. There  is  a  fort  of  eloquence,  in  filence  with  propriety.  A  minute  detail 
of  the  circumftances  of  an  important  fcene  is  generally  cold  and  infipid.  1  he  hu- 
man mind,  free  and  fond  of  thinking  for  itfelf,  is  difgufied  to  find  every  thin^  done 
by  the  poet,  Ii  is,  therefore,  his  bufinefs  only  to  mark  out  the  moft  itriking  out- 
lines, and  to  allow  the  imaginations  of  his  readers  to  finifh  the  figure  for  them- 
felves." 

The  book  ends  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day,  from  the  opening  of  the  poem. 


3iS  T    E    M    O    R    A. 

the  wind.  Raife  high  his  praife,  in  mine  ear,  while  yet 
he  fliines  in  war. 

Leave,  blue-eyed  Clatho,  leave  thy  hall !  Behold 
that  early  beam  of  thine  !  The  hoft  is  withered  in  its 
courfe.  No  further  look  :  it  is  dark.  Light-trembling 
from  the  harp,  ftrike,  virgins,  flrike  the  found.  No 
hunter  he  defcends,  from  the  dewy  haunt  of  the  bounding 
roe.  He  bends  not  his  bow  on  the  wind ;  nor  fends  his 
grey  arrow  abroad. 

Deep-folded  in  red  war  !  See  battle  roll  againfc  his 
fide.  Striding  amid  the  ridgy  ftrife,  he  pours  the  deaths 
of  thoufands  forth.  Fillan  is  like  a  fpirit  of  heaven,  that 
defcends  from  the  fkirt  of  winds.  The  troubled  ocean 
feels  his  fteps,  as  he  ftrides  fi'om  wave  to  wave.  His  path 
kindles  behind  him.  lilands  fhake  their  heads  on  the 
heaving  feas !    Leave,  blue-eyed  Clatho,  leave  thy  hail ! 


TEMORA: 


E       M       O       R       A 

A   N 

EPIC        POEM. 
BOOK    VI. 

ARGUMENT. 

THIS  book  opens  with  a  fpecch  of  FIngal,  who  fees  Gathmor  defcending  to  the 
affidance  of  his  flying  army.  The  king  difpatchcs  Oflian  to  the  relief  of  Fillan. 
He  himfelf  retires  behind  the  rock  of  Cormul,  to  avoid  the  fight  of  the  engac^e- 
ment  between  his  fon  and  Cathmor.  Oflian  advances.  The  defcent  of  Gath- 
mor defcri  bed.  He  rallies  the  the  army,  renews  the  battle,  and,  before  Oflian 
could  arrive,  engages  Fillan  himfelf.  Upon  the  approach  of  Oflian,  the  com- 
bat between  the  two  heroes  ceafes.  Oflian  and  Gathmor  prepare  to  fi^ht,  but 
night  coming  on,  pievents  them.  Oflian  returns  to  the  place  where  Gathmor 
and  Fillan  fought.  He  finds  Fillan  mortally  wounded,  and  leaning  againft  a 
lock.  Their  difcourfe.  Fillan  dies:  his  body  is  laid,  by  Oflian,  in  a  neighbour- 
ing cave.  The  Galedonian  army  return  to  Fingal.  He  queftions  them  about 
his  fon,  and,  underflanding  that  he  was  killed,  retires,  in  filence,  to  the  rock  of 
Coimul.  Upon  the  retreat  of  the  ajmy  of  Fingal, '^the  Fir-bolg  advance.  Cath- 
mor finds  Bran,  one  of  the  dogs  of  Fingal,  lying  on  the  fliield  of  Fillan,  before 
the  entrance  of  the  cave,  where  the  body  of  that  hero  lay.  His  refleftions  there- 
upon. He  returns,  in  a  melancholy  mood,  to  his  army.  Malthos  endeavours 
to  comfort  him,  by  the  example  of  his  father  Borbar-duthul.  Gathmor  retires 
to  refl.  The  fong  of  Sul-malla  concludes  the  book,  which  ends  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  third  night,  from  the  opening  of  the  poem. 

*  "  ^ATHMOR  rifes  on  his  hill !  Shall  Fingal  take 
V>4  the  fword  of  Luno  ?  But  what  fhould  become  of 
thy  fame,  fon  of  white-bofomed  Clatho  ?  Turn  not  thine 
eyes  from  Fingal,  fair  daughter  of  Iniftore.  I  fhall  not 
quench  thy  early  beam.  It  Ihines  along  my  foul.  Rife, 
wood-£kirted  Mora,  rife  between  the  war  and  me  !  Why 
ihould  Fingal  behold  the  ftrife,  left  his  dark-haired  war- 
rior fhould  fall !  Amidft  the  fong,  O  Carril,  pour  the  found 

of 

*  Fingal  fpeaks. 


3i8  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

of  the  trembling  harp !  Here  are  the  voices  of  rocks!  and 
there  the  bright  tumbling  of  Vv^aters.  Father  of  Ofcarj, 
lift  the  fpear !  Defend  the  young  in  arms.  Conceal  thy 
fteps  from  Fillan.  He  mult  not  know  that  I  doubt  his 
fteel.  No  cloud  of  mine  fhall  rife^  my  fon,  upon  thy  foul 
of  fire  1" 

He  funk  behind  his  rock,  amid  the  found  of  Carril's 
fong.  Brightening,  in  my  growing  foul,  I  took  the  fpear 
of  Temora*.  I  faw,  along  Moi-lena,  the  wild  tumbling 
of  battle  ;  the  ftrife  of  death,  in  gleaming  rows,  disjoined 
and  broken  round.  Fillan  is  a  beam  of  fire.  From  wing 
to  wing  is  his  walfeful  courfe.  The  ridges  of  war  melt 
before  him.    They  are  rolled,  in  fmoke,  from  the  fields  ! 

Now  is  the  coming  forth  of  Cathmor,  in  the  armour  of 
kings !  Dark  waves  the  eagle's  M^ing,  above  his  helmet  of 
fire.  Unconcerned  are  his  fleps,  as  if  they  were  to  the 
chace  of  Erin.  He  raifes,  at  times,  his  terrible  voice., 
Erin,  abafhed,  gathers  round.  Their  fouls  return  back, 
like  a  ftream.  They  wonder  at  the  fteps  of  their  fear.  He 
rofe,  like  the  beam  of  the  morning  on  a  haunted  heath  i 
the  traveller  looks  back,  with  bending  eye,  on  the  field  of 
dreadful  forms  !  Sudden,  from  the  rock  of  Moi-lena,  are 
Sul-malla's  trembling  fteps.  An  oak  takes  the  fpear  from 
her  hand.  Half-bent,  flie  loofes  the  lance.  But  then  are 
her  eyes  on  the  king,  from  amid  her  wandering  locks  ! 
"  No  friendly  ftrife  is  before  thee  !  No  light  contending 
of  bows,  as  when  the  youth  of  Inis-huna  j  came  forth 
beneath  the  eye  of  Conmor  !" 

As  the  rock  of  Runo,  which  takes  the  palling  clouds 
as  they  fly,  feems  growing,  in  gathered  darknefs,  over 
the  ftreamy  heath  ;  fo  feems  the  chief  of  Atha  taller,  as 
gather  his  people  around.  As  different  blafts  fly  over  the 
fea,  each  behind  its  dark-blue  wave  ;  fo  Cathmor's  words, 
on  every  fide,  pour  his  warriors  forth.    Nor  filent  on  his 

hill 

-■•  The  fpear  of  Ttrnora  was  that  which  Ofcai  had  received,  in  a  prefent,  from 
Coimac,  the  fon  of  Artho,  kino  of  Ireland.  It  was.  of  it  that  Cairbar  made  the 
pretext  for  quarrel  in^  wiih  Ofcar,  at  the  feaft,  in  the  firft  book. 

t  Clu-ba,  Ziiinding  bay;  an  arm  of  the  fea  in  Inis-huna,  or  the  weflern  co.iR  of 
South-Britain.  It  was  in  this  b.iv  that  Cathmor  was  wind-bound  when  Sul-malla 
came,  in  the  difguifc  of  a  youni;  warrin;,  to  acrompany  him  in  his  voyage  to  Ire- 
land. Conmor,'  the  father  oF  Sul-malla,  as  is  infinuated  at  the  clofe  of  the  fourth 
book,  wa:i  dead  before  the  departure  of  hij  daughter. 


Book  VI.        An  EPIC   POEM. 


319 


hill  is  Fillan.  He  mixes  his  words  with  his  echoing  Ihield. 
An  eagle  he  feemed,  with  founding  wings,  calling  the 
wind  to  kis  rock,  when  he  fees  the  coming  forth  of  the 
roes,  on  Lutha's*  rufliy  field  1 

Now  they  bend  forward  in  battle.  Death's  hundred 
voices  arife.  The  kings,  on  either  fide,  were  like  hres  on 
the  fouls  of  the  hofls.  Offian  bounded  along.  High  rocks 
and  trees  ruih  tall  between  the  war  and  mc.  But  I  hear 
the  noife  of  fteel,  between  my  clanging  arms.  Rifmg, 
gleaming,  on  the  hill,  I  behold  the  backward  (laps  of 
hods  ;  their  backward  fteps,  on  either  fide,  and  wildly- 
looking  eyes.  The  chiefs  were  met  in  dreadful  fight  1 
the  two  blue-fhielded  kings  !  Tall  and  dark,  thro'  gleams 
gf  fteel,  are  feen  the  ftriving  heroes  !  1  rufli.  My  fears 
for  Fillan  fly,  burning,  acrofs  my  foul. 

I  COME.  Nor  Cathmor  flies,  nor  yet  comes  on  :  he 
fidelong  ftalks  along.  An  icy  rock,  cold,  tall  he  feems. 
I  call  forth  all  my  Heel.  Silent  av/hile  we  (Iride,  on  either 
fide  of  a  rufliing  ftream  ;  then,  hidden  turning,  all  at 
once,  we  raife  our  pointed  fpears  !  We  raife  our  fpears, 
but  night  comes  down.  It  is  dark  and  fiient  round  ;  bur. 
where  the  diftant  fteps  of  hofts  are  lounding  over  the  heath. 

I  COME  to  the  place  where  Fillan  fought.  Nor  voice, 
nor  found  is  there.  A  broken  helmet  lies  on  earth,  a 
buckler  cleft  in  twain.  "  Where,  Fillan,  where  art  thou, 
young  chief  of  echoing  Morven  ?"  He  hears  me,  leaning 
on  a  rock, , which  bends  its  grey  head  over  the  ftream. 
He  hears  ;  but  fullen,  dark,  he  ftands.  At  length  I  faw 
the  hero  ! 

"  Why  ftandeft  thou,  robed  in  darknefs,  fon  of  woody 
Selma  ?  Bright  is  thy  path,  my  brother,  in  this  dark- 
brown  field  !  Long  has  been  thy  ftrife  in  battle  ! — 
Now  the  horn  of  Fingal  is  heard,  Afcend  to  the  cloud  of 
thy  father,  to  his  hill  of  feafts.  In  the  evening  mift  he 
fits,  and  hears  the  found  of  Carril's  harp.  Carry  joy  to 
the  aged,  young  breaker  of  the  fiiields !" 

"  Can  the  vanquifhed  carry  joy  ?    OfTian,  no  flneld  is 

mine  ! 

*  Lutha  was  the  name  of  a  valley  in  Morven.  There  dwelt  Tofcar  the  fon  of 
Conloch,  the  father  of  Malvina,  who,  upon  that  r.ccount,  is  often  called  ^5(•  ^W 
of  Lutha.     Lutha  fignifies  fcuift  Jfreavi. 


320  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

mine  !  It  lies  broken  on  the  field.  The  eagle-wing  of  my 
helmet  is  torn.  It  is  when  foes  fly  before  them,  that  fa- 
thers delight  in  their  fons.  But  their  fighs  burft  forth  in 
fecret,  when  their  young  warriors  yield.  No  :  Fillan 
iliall  not  behold  the  king  !  Why  fliould  the  hero  mourn  ?" 

"  Son  of  blue-eyed  Clatho  !  O  Fillan,  awake  not  my 
foul  !  Wert  thou  not  a  burning  fire  before  him  ?  Shall  he 
not  rejoice  ?  Such  fame  belongs  not  to  Offian  ;  yet  is  the 
king  (till  a  fun  to  me.  He  looks  on  my  fieps,  with  joy. 
Shadows  never  arife  on  his  face.  Afcend,  O  Fillan,  to 
Mora  !  His  feaft  is  fpread  in  the  folds  of  mift." 

"  OssiAN  !  give  me  that  broken  ifhield  ;  thefe  feathers, 
that  are  rolled  in  the  wind.  Place  them  near  to  Fillan, 
that  lefs  of  his  fame  may  fall.  Offian,  I  begin  to  fail. 
Lay  me  in  that  hollow  rock.  Raife  no  ftone  above,  left 
one  fliould  aik  about  my  fame.  I  am  fallen  in  the  firft  of 
my  fields,  without  renown.  Let  thy  voice  alone  fend  joy 
to  my  flying  foul.  Why  fliould  the  bard  know  where 
dwells  the  loft  beam  of  Clatho  *  ?" 

"Is 

*  A  dialogue  between  Clatho  the  mother,  and  Bofmina  the  fifter,  of  Fillan. 

CLATHO.- 

DAUGHTER  of  Finp;al,  arife:  thou  light  between  thy  locks.  Lift  thy  f.^'r 
licad  from  refl,  foft-gliding  fun-beam  of  Selma !  1  beheld  thv  arms,  on  thy 
breaft ,  white-toffcd  amidll  thy  wandering  locks ;  when  the  ruflling  breeze  of  the 
rnorning  came  from  the  defart  of  flreams.  Haft  thou  feen  thy  fathers,  Bos-mina, 
dclcending  in  thy  dreams  ?  Arife,  daughter  of  Clatho  ;  dwells  there  aught  of  grief 
in  ihy  iou!  i'  • 

BOS-MINA. 

A  thni  form  palled  before  me,  fadmg  as  it  flew  :  like  the  darkening  wave  of  a 
breeze,  along  a  field  of  grafs.  Deicend,  from  thy  wi.ll,  O  harp,  and  call  back  the 
foul  of  Bos-niina  ;  it  has  rolled  away,  like  a  ftrcam.  I  hear  thy  pleafant  found.  I 
hear  thee,   O  liarp,  and  my  voice  {hall  rife. 

How  often  fhall  ye  rufli  to  war,  ye  dwellers  of  my  foul?  Your  paths  are  didant, 
kings  of  men,  in  Erin  of  blue  flreaiais.  Lift  thy  wing,  thou  fouthern  breeze,  from 
Clouo's  liarkcmng  heath  :   fpread  the  fails  of  Fingal  towards  the  bays  of  his  land. 

But  who  is  that,  in  his  flrength,  darkening  in  the  prelence  of  war?  His  arm 
riretches  to  the  foe,  like  the  beam  of  the  fickly  fun ;  when  his  fide  is  crufted  with 
flarkncfs,  and  he  rolls  his  difmal  courfe  through  the  fky.  Who  is  it,  but  the  fa- 
ther of  Bos-mina  ?  Shall  he  return  till  danger  is  pail  ! 

Fillan,  thou  art  a  beam  by  his  fide;  beautiful,  but  terrible,  is  thy  light.  Thy 
fword  is  before  thee,  a  blue  fire  of  night.  When  flialt  thou  return  to  thy  rocs ; 
to  the  flreams  of  thy  rufhy  fields  ?  When  fhall  I  behold  thee  fiom  Mora,  while 
%vinds  drew  my  long  locks  on  their  blafls !  But  fliall  a  young  eagle  return  from 
ths  field  v.'heie  the  heroes  fall !  . 

CLATHO. 


Book  VI.        An   EPIC   POEM.  321 

"  Is  thy  fplrit  on  the  eddying  winds,  O  Filhn,  young 
breaker  of  ihlelds  !  Joy  purfue  my  hero,  through  his 
folded  clouds.  The  forms  of  thy  fathers,  O  Fillan,  bend, 
to  receive  their  fon.  I  behold  the  fpreading  of  their  fire 
on  Mora  ;  the  blue-rolling  of  their  mifty  wreaths.  Joy 
meet  thee,  my  brother  !— But  we  are  dark  and  fad  !  I  be- 
hold the  foe  round  the  aged.  I  behold  the  wafting  away 
of  his  fame.  Thou  art  left  alone  in  the  field,  O  grey- 
haired  king  of  Selma  !" 

I  LAID  him  in4he  hollow  rock,  at  the  roar  of  the  nightly 
ftream.  One  red  ftar  looked  in  on  the  hero.  Winds  lift, 
at  times,  his  locks.  I  liften.  No  found  is  heard.  The 
warrior  llept  ! — As  lightning  on  a  cloud,  a  thought  came 
rufliing  along  my  foul.  My  eyes  roll  in  fire :  my  ftride 
was  in  the  clang  of  fteel.  "  I  will  find  thee,  king  of  Erin  1 
in  the  gathering  of  thy  thoufands,  find  thee.  Why  fhould 
that  cloud  efcape,  that  quenched  our  early  beam  ?  Kindle 
your  meteors  on  your  hills,  my  fathers.  Light  my  daring 
fleps.  I  will  confume  in  wrath*.— But  Ihould  not  I  re- 
turn! The  king  is  without  a  fon,  grey-haired  among  his 
foes  !  His  arm  is  not  as  in  the  days  of  old  :  his  fame 
grows  dim  in  Erin.  Let  me  not  behold  him  laid  low  in 
his  latter  field. — But  can  I  return  to  the  king  ?  Will  he 
not  aik  about  his  fon  ?  "  Thou  oughteft  to  defend  young 

S  s  Fillan.", 

CLATHO. 

Soft,  as  the  fong  of  Locla,  is  the  voice  of  Selma's  raaid.  Pleafant  to  the  ear  of 
Clarho  is  the  name  of  the  breaker  of  fliields.  Behold,  the  king  comes  from  ocean  : 
the  thield  of  Morven  is  borne  by  bards.  The  foe  has  fled  before  him,  like  the  de- 
paifarc  of  mift.  I  hear  not  the  founding  wings  of  my  eagle;  the  rulhing  forth  of 
the  fon  of  Clatho.     Thou  art  dark,  O  Fin,!f  li ;  flrall  the  warrior  never  return  ?  *  ** 

*  Here  the  fentence  is  defignedly  left  Linhniflicd.  The  fenfe  is,  that  he  was  re- 
folved,  like  a  deflroying  fire,  to  conlnme  Cathmor,  who  had  killed  his  brother. 
In  the  midfl:  of  this  refolution,  the  fituation  of  Fin,a;nl  fuggefls  itfelf  to  him,  in  a  ve- 
ry ftrong  light.  Ke  refolves  to  return  to  alTdl  the  king  in  profecuting  the  war.  But 
then  his  fliamc  for  not  defending  his  brother,  recurs  to  him.  He  is  determined 
again  to  go  and  find  out  Cathnr.or.  We  may  confider  him,  as  in  the  aft  of  advanc- 
ing towards  the  enemy,  when  the  horn  of  Fingal  founded  on  >/Iora,  and  called 
back  his  people  to  his  prefence.  This  foliloquy  is  natural:  the  refohuions  which 
fo  luddenly  follow  one  another,  are  exprefllve  of  a  mind  extremely  agitated  with 
forrow  and  confcious  fiiame  :  yet  the  behaviour  of  Oflian,  in  his  execution  of  the 
commands  of  Fingal,  is  fo  irreprehenfihle,  that  it  is  not  eafy  to  determine  where 
he  failed  in  his  duty.  The  truth  is,  that  when  men  fail  in  defigns  which  they  ar- 
dently wifli  to  accomplifli,  they  naturally  blame  thcmfelves,  as  the  chief  caufc  of 
their  difappointment. 


322  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

Fillan.'*  Offian  will  meet  the  foe.  Green  Erin,  thy 
founding  tread  is  pieafant  to  my  ear.  I  rufh  on  thy  ridgy 
jioft,  to  fhun  the  eyes  of  Fingal. — I  hear  the  voice  of  the 
king,  on  Mora's  midy  top !  He  calls  his  two  fons  !  I 
come,  my  father,  in  my  grief.  I  come,  like  an  eagle, 
which  the  fiame  of  night  met  in  the  defart,  and  fpoiled 
of  half  his  wings  !" 

Distant*,  round  the  king,  on  Mora,  the  broken 
ridges  of  Morven  are  rolled.  They  turned  their  eyes  : 
each  darkly  bends,  on  his  own  allien  fpear.  Silent  ftood 
the  king  in  the  mJdil.  Thought  on  thought  rolled  over 
his  foul ;  as  waves  on  a  fecret  mountain-lake,  each  with 
its  back  of  foam.  He  looked  :  no  fon  appeared,  with  his 
long-beaming  fpear.  The  fighs  rofe,  crowding,  from  his 
foul ;  but  he  concealed  his  grief.  At  length  I  ftood  be- 
neath an  oak.  No  voice  cf  mine  was  heard.  What  could 
I  fay  to  Fingal  in  his  hour  of  woe  ?  His  words  rofe,  at 
length,  in  the  midft  :  the  people  fln'unk  backward,  as  he 
fpokef. 

"  Where 

*  "  Thisfcenc,"  fays  an  ingenious  writer,  and  a  ,cood  judge,  "  is  fckmn.  The 
poet  aKs'ays  places  his  chief  charatier  amidft  objefts  which  favour  the  lublime.  The 
face  of  the  country,  the  night,  the  broken  remains  of  a  defeated  army,  and,  above 
jfll,  the  attitude  and  filence  of  Fingal  himfelf,  are  circumOances  calculated  to  im- 
prefs  an  awful  idea  on  the  mind.  OITian  is  mcft  fuccelsful  in  his  night-de- 
Icnptions.  Dark  images  fuited  the  melancholy  temper  of  his  mind.  His  poems 
were  all  compofed  after  the  attive  part  of  his  life  was  over,  when  he  was  blind, 
and  kad  furvived  all  the  companions  of  his  youth  :  we  therefore  find  a  veil  of  me- 
lancholy thrown  over  the  whole." 

t  I  owe  the  firft  paragraph  of  the  following  note  to  the  fame  pen. 

The  abaflied  behaviour  of  the  army  of  Fingal  proceeds  rather  from  {hame  than 
fear..  The  king  was  not  of  a  tyrannical  difpofuion  :  He,  as  he  profefTes  himfelf  in 
the  fifth  book,  never  was  a  dreadful  form,  in  tkeir  prefince,  darkened  into  wrath.  His 
voice  was  no  thunder  to  their  ears  :  his  eyes  Jlnt  forth  no  death.  The  firfl  ages  of  fo- 
ciety  are  not  the  times  of  arbitrary  power.  As  the  wants  of  mankind  are  few,  they 
retain  their  independence.  It  is  an  advanced  date  of  civilization  that  moulds  the 
mind  to  that  fubniilTion  to  government,  of  which  ambitious  magiflrates  take  advan- 
tage, and  raife  themfelves  into  abfolute  power. 

It  is  a  vulgar  error,  that  the  common  Highlanders  liv€<i  in  abjeft  flavery  under 
their  chiefs.  Their  high  ideas  of,  and  attachment  to,  the  heads  of  their  families, 
probably,  led  the  unintelligent  into  this  miOake.  When  the  honour  of  the  tribe 
■was  concerned,  the  commands  of  the  chief  were  obeyed,  without  reftriflion  :  but, 
if  individuals  were  opprelT.'d,  they  threw  themfelves  into  the  armsof  a  neighbouring 
clan,  alTumed  a  new  name,  and  weie  encourao,ed  and  protefled.  The  fear  of  this 
defertion,  no  doubt,  made  the  chiefs  cautious  in  their  government.  As  their  con- 
fequence,  in  the  eyes  of  oihers,  was  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  their  people, 
they  took  care  to  avoid  every  thing  that  tended  t6  diininidi  it. 

It 


Book  VI.        An   EPIC    POEM.  323 

"  Where  Is  the  fon  of  Selma,  he  who  led  In  war?  I 
behold  not  his  fteps,  among  my  people,  returning  from 
the  field.  Fell  the  young  bounding  roe,  who  v/as  fo  ftately 
on  my  hills  ?  He  fell ;  for  ye  are  Ulent.  The  fhield  of 
war  is  cleft  In  twain. — Let  his  armour  be  near  to  Fingal ; 
and  the  fword  of  dark-brown  Luno.  I  am  waked  on  my 
hills  :  with  morning  I  defcend  to  war." 

High*  on  CormuFs  rock,  an  oak  is  flaming  to  the 
wind  :  the  grey  fkirts  of  miiL  are  fettled  around.  Thither 
flrode  the  king  in  his  wrath.  Diflant  from  the  hoft  he 
always  lay,  when  battle  burnt  within  his  foul.  On  two 
fpears  hung  his  fliieid  on  high  ;  the  gleaming  fign  of 
death  :  that  fhield,  which  he  was  wont  to  ftrike,  by  night, 
before  he  ruflied  to  war.  It  w^as  then  his  warriors  knew, 
when  the  king  was  to  lead  In  ilrife ;  for  never  was  this, 
buckler  heard,  till  the  wrath  of  Fingal  arofe.  Unequal 
were  his  fteps  on  high,  as  he  Pnone  in  the  beam  of  the 
oak.  He  was  dreadful  as  the  form  of  the  fpirit  of  night ; 
when  he  clothes,  on  hills,  his   wild  geftures  with   mifl, 

and, 

It  was  but  very  lately  that  the  authority  of  the  laws  extended  to  the  Highlands. 
Before  that  time  the  clans  were  governed,  in  civil  affairs,  not  bv  the  verbal  com- 
mands of  the  chief,  but  by  wlrat  they  called  Clechda,  or  the  traditional  precedents 
of  their  anceftors.  When  differences  happened  between  individuals,  lome  or  the 
oldeft  men  in  the  tribe  were  chofen  umpires  between  the  parties,  to  decide  accord- 
ing to  the  C/i?c//flfa.  The  chief  interpofed  his  authority,  and,  invariably,  enforced 
the  decifion.  In  their  wars,  which  were  fiequent,  on  account  of  family-feuds,  the 
chief  was  lefs  referred  in  the  execution  of  his  authority  ;  and  even  then  he  feldom 
extended  it  to  the  taking  the  life  of  any  of  his  tribe.  No  crime  was  capital,  ex- 
cept murder;  and  that  was  very  unfrequent  in  the  Highlands.  No  corporal  punifh- 
ment,  of  any  kind,  was  inflitted.  The  memory  of  an  affiont  of  this  fort  would  re- 
main, for  ages,  in  a  iamily,  and  they  would  leize  every  opportunity  to  be  revenged, 
unlefs  it  came  immediately  from  the  hands  of  the  chief  himfelf ;  in  that  cafe  it  was 
taken,  rather  as  a  fatherly  corretlion,  than  a  legal  punilhment  for  offences. 

*  This  rock  of  Corninl  is  often  mentioned  in  the  preceding  part  of  the  poem. 
It  was  on  it  Fingal  and  Ollian  flood  to  view  the  battle.  The  cullom  of  retiring 
from  the  army,  on  the  night  prior  to  their  engaging  in  battle,  was  univerlal  among 
the  kings  of  the  Caledonians.  Trenmor,  the  motl  renowned  of  the  ancefiors  of 
Fingal,  is  mentioned  as  the  firfl;  who  inflituted  this  cuftom.  Succeeding  bards  at- 
tributed it  to  a  hero  of  a  later  period.  In  an  old  poem,  which  begins  with  Mac- 
Arcatk  na  ceudfiol,  this  cuHom  of  retiring  from  the  army,  before  an  engagement, 
is  numbered,  among  the  wife  inftitutions  of  Ferf;us,  the  fon  of  Arc  or  Arcath,  the 
firft  king  of  Scots.  I  fhali  here  tranflate  the  paffage ;  in  fome  other  note  I  may 
probably  give  all  that  remains  of  the  poem.  Fergus  of  the  hundred  Jlf earns,  fon  of 
Arcath  who  fought  of  old:  thou  didjl  fif  retire  at  night;  when  the  fee  rdkd  before 
thee,  in  echoing  fuids.  Nor  bending  in  rffi  is  the  king  :  kc  gathers  battici  in  his  foul. 
Fly,  fon  of  the  Jlranger ;  with  morJi  he  faall  rufli  abroad.  When,  or  by  whom,  tb:S 
poem  was  wiitten,  is  uncertain. 


32''4  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

and,  ifliiing  forth  on  the  troubled  ocean,  mounts  the  car 
of  winds. 

Nor  fettled,  from  the  ftorm,  is  Erin's  fea  of  war  ! 
They  glitter,  beneath  the  moon,  and,  low-humming,  ftill 
roll  on  the  field.  Alone  are  the  fteps  of  Cathmor,  before 
them,  on  the  heath.  He  hangs  forward,  with  all  his  arms, 
on  Morven's  flying  hoft.  Now  had  he  come  to  the  moffy 
cave,  where  Fillan  lay  in  night.  One  tree  was  bent  above 
the  ftream,  which  glittered  over  the  rock.  There,  fhone 
to  the  moon  the  broken  fliield  of  Clatho's  fon  ;  and 
near  it,  on  grafs,  lay  hairy-footed  Bran  *.  He  had  miffed 
the  chief  on  Mora,  and  fearched  him  along  the  wind. 
He  thought  that  the  blue-eyed  hunter  flept ;  he  lay  upon 
his  fliield.  No  blaft  came  over  the  heath,  unknown  to 
bounding  Bran. 

Cathmor  faw  the  white-breaded  dog  :  he  faw  the  bro- 
ken fliield.  Darknefs  is  blown  back  on  his  foul  ;  he  re- 
members the  falling  away  of  the  people.  "  They  come,  a 
ftream  ;  are  rolled  away  ;  another  race  fucceeds.  But 
fome  mark  the  fields,  as  they  pafs,  with  their  own  mighty 
names.  The  heath,  through  dark-brown  years,  is  theirs  : 
fome  blue  flream  winds  to  their  fame.  Of  thefe  be  the 
chief  of  Atha,  v/hen  he  lays  him  down  on  earth.  Often 
may  the  voice  of  future  times  meet  Cathmor  in  the  air  ; 
when  he  flrides  from  wind  to  wind,  or  folds  himfelf  in 
the  wing  of  a  ftorm." 

Green  Erin  gathered  round  the  king,  to  hear  the  voice 

of 

*  I  remember  to  have  met  with  an  old  poem,  wherein  a  fiorv  of  this  fort  is  very 
happily  introduced.  In  one  of  the  invafions  of  the  Danes,  Ullin-clundu,  a  confi- 
derable  chief,  on  the  weRern  coaft  of  Scotland,  was  killed  in  a  rencounter  with  a 
flying  party  of  the  enemy,  who  had  landed,  at  no  great  diftance,  from  the  place  of 
his  refidence.  The  few  followers  who  attended  him  were  alfo  flain.  The  young 
wife  of  Uilin-clundu,  who  had  not  heard  of  his  fall,  fearing  the  worft,  on  account 
of  his  long  delay,  alarmed  the  reft  of  his  tribe,  who  went  in  fearch  of  him  along 
the  {hore.  1  hey  did  not  find  him  ;  and  the  beautiful  widow  became  difconfolatc. 
At  length  he  was  difcovered,  by  means  of  his  dog,  who  fat  on  a  rock  befide  the 
body,  for  fome  days.  The  ftanza  concerning  the  dog,  whofe  name  was  Du-chos, 
or  Blackfoot,  is  defcriptive. 

"  Dark-fided  Du-chos !  feet  of  wind  !  cold  is  thy  feat  on  rocks.  He  (the  dog) 
fees  the  roe  :  his  ears  are  high;  and  half  he  bounds  away.  He  looks  around  ;  but 
Ullin  ileeps;  he  droops  again  his  head.  The  winds  come  paft ;  dark  Du-chos 
thinks,  that  Ulhn's  voice  is  there.  But  flill  he  beholds  him  filent,  laid  amidft  the 
•waving  heath.  Dark-fided  Du-chos,  his  voice  no  more  ftall  fend  thee  over  the 
heath." 


Book  VI.        An  EPIC   POEM.  ^25 

of  his  power.  Their  joyful  faces  bend,  unequal,  forwardj 
in  the  Hght  of  the  oak.  They  who  were  terrible  were 
removed  :  Lubar*  winds  again  in  their  hod.  Cathmor 
was  that  beam  from  heaven  which  flione  when  his  people 
were  dark.  He  was  honoured  in  the  midft.  Their  fouls 
rofe  with  ardour  around.  The  king  alone  no  gladnefs 
ihewcd  ;  no  ftranger  he  to  war  ! 

"  Why  is  the  king  fo  fad,"  faid  Malthos  eagle-eyed  ? 
"  Remains  there  a  foe  at  Lubar  ?  Lives  there  among 
them,  who  can  lift  the  fpear  ?  Not  fo  peaceful  was  thy 
father  Borbar-duthulf,  king  of  fpears.  His  rage  was  a  fire 
that  always  burned :  his  joy  over  fallen  foes  was  great. 
Three  days  feafted  the  grey-haired  hero,  when  he  heard 
that  Calmar  fell  :  Calmar,  who  aided  the  race  of  Ullin, 
from  Lara  of  the  llreams.  Often  did  he  feel,  with  his 
hands,  the  fheel  which,  they  faid,  had  pierced  his  foe. 
He  felt  it,  with  his  hands,  for  Borbar-duthul's  eyes  had 
failed.  Yet  was  the  king  a  fun  to  his  friends  ;  a  gale  to 
lift  their  branches  round.  Joy  was  around  him  in  his 
halls  :  he  loved  the  fons  of  Bolga.  His  name  remains  in 
Atha,  like  the  awful  memory  of  gholts,  whofe  prefence 
was  terrible,  but  they  blew  the  ftorm  away.     Now  let  the 

voices 

*  In  order  to  illuftrate  this  pafTage,  it  is  proper  to  lay  before  the  reader  the  fcene 
of  the  two  preceding  battles.  Between  the  hills  of  Mora  and  Lona  lay  the  plain 
of  Moi-lena,  ihrouj',h  which  ran  the  river  Lubar.  The  firft  battle,  wherein  Gaul, 
the  fon  of  Morni,  commanded  on  the  Caledonian  fide,  was  fought  on  the  banks  of 
Lubar.  As  there  was  little  advantage  obtained,  on  either  fide,  the  armies,  after 
the  battle,  retained  their  former  pofitions. 

In  the  fecond  battle,  wherein  Fillan  commanded,  the  Irifh,  after  the  fall  of 
Foldath,  were  driven  up  the  hill  of  Lona ;  but  upon  the  coming  of  Cathmor  to 
their  aid,  they  regained  their  former  fituation,  and  drove  back  the  Caledonians,  in 
their  turn ;  fo  that  Lubar  winded  again  in  their  kojl. 

+  Borbar-duthul,  the  father  of  Cathmor,  was  the  brother  of  that  Colc-ulla,  who 
is  faid,  in  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  book,  to  have  rebelled  againft  Cormac  king 
of  Ireland.  Borbar-duthul  feems  to  have  retained  all  the  prejudice  of  his  family 
againft  the  fucceffion  of  the  pollerity  of  Conar,  on  the  Irifli  throne.  From  this 
Ihort  epifode  we  learn  fome  fa£ls  which  tend  to  throw  light  on  the  hiftory  of  the 
times.  It  appears,  that,  when  Swaran  invaded  Ireland,  he  was  only  oppofed  by 
the  Gael,  who  pofTcITed  Ulfter,  and  the  north  of  that  Ifland.  Calmar,  the  fon  of 
Matha,  whofe  gallant  behaviour  and  death  are  related  in  the  third  book  of  Fingal, 
was  the  only  chief  of  the  race  of  the  Fir-bolg,  that  joined  the  Cael,  or  Irifh  Cale- 
donians, during  the  invafion  of  Swaian.  The  indecent  joy,  which  Borbar-duthul 
exprefled,  upon  the  death  of  Calmar,  is  well  fuited  with  that  fpirit  of  revenge, 
which  fubfifted,  univerfally,  in  every  country  whete  the  feudal  fyftem  was  efta- 
blifhed.  It  would  appear  that  fome  peifon  had  carried  to  Borbar-duthul  that  wea- 
pon, with  which,  it  was  pretended,  Calmar  had  been  killed. 


326  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

voices  *  of  Erin  raife  the  foul  of  the  king  ;  he  that  fhone 
when  war  was  dark,  and  laid  the  mighty  low.  Fonar, 
from  that  grey-browed  rock,  pour  the  tale  of  other  times : 
pour  it  on  wide-fkirted  Erin,  as  it  fettles  round." 

"  To  me,"  faid  Cathmor,  "  no  fong  iliall  rife ;  nor 
Fonar  fit  on  the  rock  of  Lubar.  The  mighty  there  are 
laid  low.  Difhurb  not  their  rufhing  ghods.  Far,  Malthos, 
£ir  remove  the  found  of  Erin's  fong.  I  rejoice  not  over 
the  foe,  when  he  ceafes  to  lift  the  IJDear.  With  morning 
we  pour  our  ftrength  abroad.  Fingal  is  wakened  on  his 
echoing  hill." 

Like  waves,  blown  back  by  fudden  winds,  Erin  retir- 
ed, at  the  voice  of  the  king.  Deep-rolled  into  the  field 
of  night,  they  fpread  their  humming  tribes.  Beneath  his 
own  tree,  at  intervals,  each  -f-  bard  fat  down  with  his 
fiarp.  They  raifed  the  fong,  and  touched  the  firing,  each 
to  the  chief  he  loved.  Before  a  burning  oak  Sul-malla 
touched,  at  times,  the  harp.  She  touched  the  harp,  and 
heard,  between,  the  breezes  in  her  hair.  In  darknefs 
near,  lay  the  king  of  Atha,  beneath  an  aged  tree.  The 
beam,  of  the  oak  was  turned  from  him  ;  he  faw  the  maid, 
but  was  not  feen.     His  foul  poured  forth,  in  fecret,  when 

he 

*  The  voices  of  Erin,  a  poetical  expreilion  for  the  bards  of  Ireland. 

t  Not  only  the  kings,  but  every  petty  chief,  had  anciently  their  bards  attending 
them,  in  the  field  ;  and  tlv  'le  bards,  in  proportion  to  the  power  of  the  chiefs,  who 
Tetair.ed  thern,  had  a  number  of  inferior  bards  in  their  train.  Upon  folemn  occa- 
fions,  all  the  bards,  in  the  army,-  would  join  in  one  chorus:  either  when  they  cele- 
brated their  viftories,  or  lamented  the  death  of  a  perfon,  worthy  and  renowned, 
ilain  in  the  war.  The  words  were  of  the  compofition  of  the  arch-bard,  retained  by 
the  king  himfelf,  who  generally  attained  to  that  high  office  on  account  of  his  fupe- 
Fio'r  genius  for  poetry.  As  the  perfons  of  the  bards  were  facred,  and  the  emolu- 
ments of  their  office  confiderable,  the  order,  in  fucceeding  times,  became  very  nu- 
merous and  infoient.  It  would  appear,  ihat,  after  the  iiitrouuftion  of  Chriftianity, 
fome  fervcd  in  the  double  capacity  of  baids  and  clergymen.  It  was,  from  this  cir- 
rumftance,  that  thev  had  the  name  of  Cldere,  which  is,  probably,  derived  from  the 
Latin  Clericus.  The  Cldere,  be  their  name  derived  from  what  it  will,  became,  at 
lad,  a  public  nuifance;  for,  taking  advantage  of  their  facred  charafter,  they  went 
about,  in  great  bodies,  and  lived,' at  difcretion,  in  the  houfes  of  the  chiefs;  till 
another  pariy,  of  the  fame  order,  drove  them  away  by  mere  dint  of  fatire.  Some 
of'the  indelicate  difputcs  of  thefe  worthy  poetical  combatants  are  handed  down,  by 
tradition,  and  ihcw  hovk'  much  the  bards,  at  lail,  abufed  the  privileges,  whidh  the 
admiration  of  their  countrymen  had  conferred  on  the  order.  It  was  this  inlolent 
behaviour  that  induced  the  chiefs  to  retrench  their  number,  and  to  take  away  thofe 
privileges  which  they  were  no  longer  worthy  to  enjoy.  Their  indolence,  and  dif- 
pofition  to  lampoon,  extinguifhed  all  the  poetical  fervour,  which  diftinguilhed  their 
predeceffors,  and  makes  us  the  lefs  regret  the  extinftion  of  the  order. 


Book  VI.        An   EPIC   POEP^l. 


327 


he  beheld  her  fearful  eye.  "  But  battle  is  before  thee,  foa 
of  Borbar-duthul." 

Amidst  the  harp,  at  intervals,  Ihe  liftened  whether  the 
warrior  flept.  Her  foul  was  up  :  flie  longed,  in  fecret, 
to  pour  her  own  fad  fong.  The  field  is  filent.  On  their 
wings,  the  blalls  of  night  retire.  The  bards  had  ceaied ; 
and  meteors  came,  red-winding  with  their  ghofts.  The 
(kj  grew  dark  :  the  forms  of  the  dead  were  blended  with 
the  clouds.  But  heedlefs  bends  the  daughter  of  Conmor, 
over  the  decaying  flame.  Thou  w^ert  alone  in  her  foul, 
car-borne  chief  of  Atha.  She  raifed  the  voice  of  the  fong, 
and  touched  the  harp  between. 

"  Clungalo  *  came  ;  fhe  miffed  the  maid.  Where 
art  thou,  beam  of  light?  Hunters,  from  the  moffy  rock, 
faw  ye  the  blue-eyed  fair  ?  Are  her  fteps  on  graffy  Lumon; 
near  the  bed  of  roes  ?  Ah  me  !  I  behold  her  bow  in  the 
hall.    Where  art  thou,  beam  of  light  ? 

"  Cease -j-,  love  of  Conmor,  ceafe  ;  I  hear  thee  not  on 
the  ridgy  heath.  My  eye  is  turned  to  the  king,  whofe 
path  is  terrible  in  war  ;  he  for  whom  my  foul  is  up,  in 
the  feafon  of  my  reft.  Deep-bofomed  in  war  he  ftands  ; 
he  beholds  me  not  from  his  cloud.  Why,  fun  of  Sul- 
malla,  doft  thou  not  look  forth  ?  I  dwell  in  darknefs  here  ; 
wide  over  me  flies  the  fliadowy  mift  ;  filled  with  dew  are 
my  locks.    Look  thou  from  thy  cloud,  O  fun  of  Sui- 

*  Clun-galo,  the  wife  of  Conmor,  king  of  Inis-huna,  and  the  mother  of  Sul- 
malla.  She  is  here  repiefented,  as  miffing  her  daughter,  after  flie  had  fled  with 
Cathmor. 

+  Sul-malla  replies  to  the  fuppofed  queftions  of  her  mother.  Towards  the  mid- 
dle of  tnis  paragraph  fhe  calls  Cathmor  the  fun  of  her  foul,  and  continues  the  me- 
taphor throughout.  This  book  ends,  we  may  fuppofc,  about  the  middle  of  the 
third  night  from  the  opening  of  the  poem. 


TEMORA: 


E       M       O       R       A  : 

I  ~         ^ss=.,  ,     ;— -  ss:^ — i -.a 

A  N 

EPIC        POEM. 
BOOK    VII. 


ARGUMENT. 


This  book  begins,  about  the  middle  of  the  third  night  from  the  opening  of  the 
poem.  The  poet  defcribes  a  kind  of  mift,  which  role,  by  night,  from  the  lake 
of  Lego,  and  was  the  ufual  reGdence  of  the  fouls  of  the  dead,  during  the  in- 
terval between  their  deceafe  and  the  funeral  fong.  The  appearance  of  the  gholl 
of  Fillan  above  the  cave  where  his  body  lay.  His  voice  comes  to  Fmgal,  on  the 
rock  of  Cormul.  The  king  ftrikes  the  fhield  of  Trenmor,  which  was  an  infiil- 
lible  fign  of  his  appearing  in  arms  himfclf.  The  extraordinary  effeft  of  the  found 
of  the  fhield.  Sul-malla,  flarting  from  fleep,  awakes  Cathmor.  Their  affefling 
difcourfe.  She  infifls  with  him,  to  fue  for  peace  ;  he  rcfolves  to  continue  the 
war.  He  direfls  her  to  retire  to  the  neighbouring  valley  of  Lona,  which  was 
the  refidence  of  an  old  Druid,  until  the  battle  of  the  next  day  fliould  be  over. 
He  awakes  his  army  with  the  found  of  his  fhield.  The  ftrield  defcribcd.  Fonar, 
the  bard,  at  the  defire^of  Cathmor,  relates  the  fiift  fettlement  of  the  Fir-bolg  in 
Ireland,  under  their  leader  Larthon.  Morning  comes.  Sul-malla  retires  to  the 
valley  of  Lona.     A  Lyric  fong  concludes  the  book. 

FROM  the  wood-fkirted  lakes  of  Lego,  afcend,  at 
times,  grey-bofomed  mifls  ;  when  the  gates  ot  the 
wefl  are  clofed,  on  the  fun*s  eagle-eye.  Wide,  over  Lara's 
flream,  is  poured  the  vapour  dark  and  deep  :  the  moon, 
like  a  dim  Ihield,  is  fwimming  through  its  folds.  With 
this,  clothe  the  fpirits  of  old  their  fudden  geftures  on  the 
wind,  when  they  flridej  from  blafl  to  blaft,  along  the 
dufky  night.  Often,  blended  with  the  gale,  to  fome  war- 
rior's grave*  they  roll  the  mill,  a  grey  dwelling  to  his 
ghoft,  until  the  fongs  arife. 

T  t  A  SOUND- 

*  As  the  mift,  which  rofe  from  the  lake  of  Lego,  occafioncd  difeafes  and  deaths 
the  bards  feigned  that  it  was  the  refidenc:  of  the  ghoib  of  the  deceafed,  durmgthe 
interval  between  their  death,  and  the  pronouncing  of  tlie  funeral  elegy  over  their 

tombs .; 


33<=> 


T    E    M    O    R    A 


A  SOUND  came  from  the  defart :  it  was  Conav,  king  of 
Inis-fail.  He  poured  his  mid  on  the  grave  of  Fillan,  at 
blue-winding  Lubar.  Dark  and  mournful  fat  the  ghoft, 
in  his  grey  ridge  of  fmoke.  The  blaft,  at  times,  rolled 
him  together  ;  but  the  form  returned  again.  It  returned, 
with  bending  eyes,  and  dark-winding  locks  of  mift. 

It  was  *  dark.  The  ileeping  hofi:  were  ftill,  in  the 
fidrts  of  night.  The  flame  decayed,  on  the  hill  of  Fingal. 
1  he  king  lay  lonely  on  his  fhield  :  his  eyes  were  half- 
clofed  in  fleep.  The  voice  of  Fillan  came.  "  Sleeps  the 
hufband  of  Clatho  ?  Dwells  the  father  of  the  fallen  in  reft  ? 
Am  I  forgot  in  the  folds  of  darknefs  ;  lonely  in  the  fea- 
fon  of  night  ?" 

"  Vv^HY  doft  thou  mix,"  faid  the  king,  "  with  the 
dreams  of  thy  father  ?  Can  I  forget  thee,  my  fon,  or  thy 
path  of  fire  in  the  field  ?  Not  fuch  come  the  deeds  of  the 
valiant  on  the  foul  of  Fingal.  They  are  not  there  a  beam 
of  lightning,  which  is  feen,  and  is  then  no  more.  I  re- 
member thee,  O  Fillan,  and  my  wrath  begins  tp  rife.'* 

The  king  took  his  deathful  fpear,  and  ilruckthe  deeply- 
founding  fhield  ;  his  ihield,  that  hung  high,  in  night,  the 
difmal  fign  of  war  !  Ghofts  fled  on  every  fide,  and  rolled 
their  gathered  forms  on  the  wind.  Thrice,  from  the 
winding  vale,  arofe  the  voice  of  deaths.  The  harps  f  of 
the  bards,  untouched,  found  mournful  over  the  hill. 

He 

tombsj  for  it  was  not  allowable,  without  that  ceremony  was  performed,  for  the 
fplrits  of  the  dead  to  mix  with  their  anceflors,  i?i  their  airy  halls.  It  was  the  bufi- 
nefs  of  the  fpirit  of  the  neareft  relation  to  the  deceafed,  to  take  the  mift  of  Lego, 
and  pour  it  over  the  grave.  We  find  here  Conar,  the  fon  of  Trenmor,  the  firft 
king  of  Ireland,  performing  this  office  for  Fillan,  as  it  was  in  the  caufe  of  the  family 
of  Conar,  that  that  hero  was  killed. 

*  The  following  is  the  fingular  fentlment  of  a  frigid  bard: 

*'  More  pk-afing  to  me  is  the  night  of  Cona,  dark-ftreaming  from  Ofllan's  harp; 
more  pleafant  it  is  to  me,  than  a  whitc-bofomed  dweller  between  my  arms;  than  a 
fair-handed  daughter  of  heroes,  in  the  hour  of  reft," 

Tho'  tradition  is  not  very  fatisfaftory  concerning  the  hiflory  of  this  poet,  it  has 
taken  care  to  inform  us,  that  he  was  very  old  when  he  wrote  the  diflich,  a  circum- 
flancc,  which  we  might  have  fuppoled,  without  the  aid  of  tradition, 

+  It  was  the  opinion  of  ancient  times,  that,  on  the  night  preceding  the  death  of 
a  perfon  worthy  and  renowned,  the  harps  of  thofe  bards,  who  were  retained  by  his 
family,  emitted  melancholy  founds.  This  was  attributed  to  the  light  touch  of 
ghojls;  who  were  fuppofed  to  have  a  fore-knowledge  of  events.  The  lame  opi- 
nion pre^'ailed  long  in  the  north,  and  the  particular  lound  was  called,  the  zvarning 
voice  of  the  dead.     The  veice  of  deaths  mentioned  io  the  preceding  fentence,  was  of 

a  diL 


Book  VII.        An   EPIC   POEM.  331 

He  {truck  again  the  fhield ;  battles  rofe  in  the  dreams  - 
of  his  hofl.    The  wide-tumbling  Itrife  is  gleaming  over 
their  fouls.    Blue-fliielded  kings  defcend  to  war.    Back- 
ward-looking armies  fly ;  and  mighty  deeds  are  half-hid, 
in  the  bright  gleams  of  fteel. 

But  when  the  third  found  arofe,  deer  darted  from  the 
clefts  of  their  rocks.  The  fcreams  of  fowl  are  heard,  in 
the  defart,  as  each  flew,  frighted,  on  his  blafl:.  The  fons 
of  Selma  half-rofe,  and  half-afl'umed  their  fpears.  But 
filence  rolled  back  on  the  hofl  ;  they  knew  the  fliield  of 
the  king.  Sleep  returned  to  their  eyes ;  the  field  was  dark 
and  flill. 

No  fleep  was  thine  in  darknefs,  blue-eyed  daughter  of 
Conmor  !  Sul-malla  heard  the  dreadful  fhield,  and  rofe, 
amid  the  night.  Her  fteps  are  towards  the  king  of  Atha. 
"  Can  danger  fhake  his  daring  foul  !"  In  doubt,  flie 
{lands,  with  bending  eyes.    Heaven  burns  with  all  its  {tars. 

Again  the  fliield  refounds !  She  .ruflied.  She  flopt. 
Her  voice  half-rofe.  It  failed.  She  faw  him,  amidfl  his 
arms,  that  gleamed  to  heaven's  fire.  She  faw  him  dira-in 
his  locks,  that  rofe  to  nightly  wind.  Away,  for  fear,  flie 
turned  her  fleps.  "  Why>fliouId  the  king  of  Erin  awake? 
Thou  art  not  a  dream  to  his  refl,  daughter  of  Inis-huna." 

More  dreadful  rings  the  fliield.  Sul-malla  flarts.  Her 
helmet  falls.  Loud-echoes  Lubar's  rock,  as  over  it  rolls 
the  fteel.  Burfl:ing  from  the  dreams  of  night,  Cathmor 
half-rofe,  beneath  his  tree.  He  faw  the  form  of  the  maid 
above  him,  on  the  rock.  A  red  flar,  with  twinkling  beam, 
looked  through  her  floating  hair. 

"  Who  comes  through  night  to  Cathmor,  in  the  feafon 
of  his  dreams  ?  Bring'fl  thou  ought  of  war  ?  "Who  art 
thou,  fon  of  night  ?  Stand'fl  thou  before  me,  a  form  of 
the  times  of  old  ?  A  voice  from  the  fold  of  a  cloud,  to 
warn  me  of  the  danger  of  Erin  ?" 

"  Nor  lonely  fcout  am  I,  nor  voice  from  folded  cloud," 
ilie  faid  j  "  but  I  warn  thee  of  the  danger  of  Erin.    Dofl 

thou 

a  different  kind.  Each  perfon  was  fuppofed  to  have  an  attendant  fpirit,  \vho  af- 
fumed  his  form  and  voice,  on  the  night  preceding  his  death,  and  appeared,  to  Ibine, 
in  the  attitude,  in  which  the  perfon  was  to  die.  The  voices  of  death  were  the  tore- 
boding  fhrieks  of  thofe  fpirits. 


332  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

thou  hear  that  found  ?  It  is  not  the  feeble,  king  of  Atha, 
that  rolls  his  figns  on  night." 

"  Let  the  warrior  roll  his  figns,'*  he  replied :  "  to 
Cathmor  they  are  the  founds  of  harps.  My  joy  is  great, 
voice  of  night,  and  burns  over  all  my  thoughts.  This  is 
the  mufic  of  kings,  on  lonely  hills,  by  night ;  when  they 
light  their  daring  fouls,  the  fons  of  mighty  deeds  !  The 
feeble  dwell  alone,  in  the  valley  of  the  breeze  ;  where 
miih  lift  their  morning  ikirts,  from  the  blue-winding 
ftreams." 

"  Not  feeble,  king  of  men,  were  thej,  the  fathers  of 
my  race.  They  dwelt  in  the  folds  of  battle,  in  their  dif- 
tant  lands.  Yet  delights  not  my  foul  in  the  figns  of  death ! 
He  *  who  never  yields  comes  forth  :  O  fend  the  bard  of 
peace  !" 

Like  a  dropping  rock,  in  the  defart,  flood  Cathmor  in 
his  tears.  Her  voice  came,  a  breeze,  on  his  foul,  and 
waked  the  memory  of  her  land  ;  where  flie  dwelt  by  her 
peaceful  flrcams,  before  he  came  to  the  war  of  Conmor. 

"  Daughter  of  flrangers,"  he  faid ;  (Ihe  trembling 
turned  away)  "  long  have  I  marked  thee  in  thy  fteel, 
young  pine  of  Inis-huna.  But  my  foul,  I  faid,  is  folded 
\n  a  ftorm.  Why  fliould  that  beam  arife,  till  my  Heps  re- 
turn in  peace  ?  Llave  I  been  pale  in  thy  prefence,  as  thou 
bidft  me  to  fear  the  king  ?  The  time  of  danger,  O  maid, 
is  the  feafon  of  my  foul;  for  then  it  fwells  a  mighty  flream, 
and  rolls  me  on  the  foe. 

"  Beneath  the  mofs-covered  rock  of  Lona,  near  his 
own  loud  ftream ;  grey  in  his  locks  of  age,  dwells  Clon- 
rnal  f  king  of  harps.  Above  him  is  his  echoing  tree,  and 
the  dun-bounding  of  roes.  The  noife  of  our  ftrife  reaches 
hh  ear,  as  he  bends  in  the  thoughts  of  years.    There  let 

thy 

*  Fiagal  is  faid  to  have  never  been  overcome  in  battle.  From  this  proceeded 
that  title  of  honour  which  is  always  beflowed  on  him  in  tradition,  Fion  gal  na  bvai\ 
Frugal  of  vicicries.  In  a  poem,  juft  now  in  my  hands,  which  celebrates  fome  of 
ihe  great  atlions  of  Arthur,  the  famous  Britifh  hero,  that  appellation  is  often  be- 
flowed on  him.  The  poem,  from  the  phra.eology,  appears  to  be  ancient;  and  is, 
perhaps,  though  that  is  not  mentioned,  a  tranflation  from  the  Welfh  language. 

+  Claon-mal,  crooked  eye  brow.  From  the  retired  life  of  this  perfon,  is  infinua- 
jed,  that  he  was  of  the  order  of  the  Druids;  which  fuppofition  is  not,  at  all,  inva- 
iidifed  by  the  appellation  of /4zK^  (///c?^^5,  here  beflowed  on  himj  for  all  agree 
iha:  the  bards  were  of  the  nuniber  of  ihe  Druids  originally. 


BookVIL        An  epic   poem.  333 

thy  reft  be,  Sul-malla,  until  our  battle  ceafe :  until  I  re- 
turn, in  my  arms,  from  the  (kirts  of  the  evening  mift, 
that  rifes,  on  Lona,  round  the  dwelling  of  my  love." 

A  LIGHT  fell  on  the  foul  of  the  maid  ;  it  rofe  kindled 
before  the  king.  She  turned  her  face  to  Cathmor,  frcra 
amidft  her  waving  locks.  "  Sooner  fliall  the  eagle  of  t.ea- 
ven  be  torn  from  the  ftream  of  his  roaring  wind,  wlien 
he  fees  the  dun  prey  before  him,  the  young  fons  of  the 
bounding  roe,  than  thou,  O  Cathmor,  be  turned  from 
the  ftrife  of  renown.  Soon  may  I  fee  thee,  warrior,  from 
the  fkirts  of  the  evening  mift,  when  it  is  rolled  around 
me,  on  Lona  of  the  ftreams.  While  yet  thou  art  diftant 
far,  ftrike,  Cathmor,  ftrike  the  fhieid,  that  joy  may  return 
to  my  darkened  foul,  as  I  lean  on  the  mcffy  rock.  Bat  if 
thou  fhouldft  fall,  I  am  in  the  land  of  ftrangers :  O  fend 
thy  voice,  from  thy  cloud,  to  the  maid  of  Inis-huna." 

"  Young  branch  of  green-headed  Luraon,  why  doft 
thou  fhake  in  the  ftorm.'*  Often  has  Cathmor  returned, 
from  darkly-rolling  wars.  The  darts  of  death  are  but  hail 
to  me  :  they  have  often  rattled  along  my  fliield.  I  have 
rifen  brightened  from  battle,  like  a  meteor  from  a  ftormy 
cloud.  Return  not,  fair  beam,  from  thy  vale,  when  the 
roar  of  battle  grows.  Then  might  the  foe  efcape,  as 
from  my  fathers  of  old. 

"  They  told  to  Son-mor*,  of  Clunarf,  who  was  flain 
by  Cormac  in  fight.  Three  days  darkened  Son-mor,  over 
his  brother's  fall.  His  fpoufe  beheld  the  filent  kin™,  and 
forefaw  his  fteps  to  war.  She  prepared  the  bow,  in  fecret, 
to  attend  her  blue-ftiielded  hero.  To  her  dwelt  darknels 
at  Atha,  when  he  was  not  there.  From  their  hundred 
ftreams,  by  night,  poured  down  the  fons  of  Alnecma. 
They  had  heard  the  fhieid  of  the  king,  and  their  rage  arofe. 
In  clanging  arms,  they  moved  along,  towards  Ullm  of  the 
groves.  Son-mor  ftruck  his  ftiield,  at  times,  the  leader  of 
the  war. 

"  Fas. 

*  Son-mor,  tall  handfcim  man.  He  was  the  father  of  Borbar-duthul,  chief  of 
Atha,  and  grandfather  to  Caihmor  himfelf. 

t  Chian-er,  man  cf  the  field.  This  chief  was  killed  in  battle  by  Cormac  Mac- 
Conar,  king  of  Ireland,  the  father  of  Ros-crana,  the  firft  wife  of  Fingal.  The  flo- 
ry  IS  alluded  to  in  fome  ancient  poems. 


334  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

**  Far  behind  followed  Sul-allin*,  over  the  {Ireamy 
hills.  She  was  a  light  on  the  mountain,  when  they  croffed 
the  vale  below.  Her  fleps  were  ftately  on  the  vale,  when 
they  rofe  on  the  mofly  hill.  She  feared  to  approach  the 
king,  who  left  her  in  echoing  Atha.  But  when  the  roar  of 
battle  rofe  :  when  hoft  was  rolled  on  hofl :  when  Son-mor 
burnt,  like  the  fire  of  heaven  in  clouds ;  with  her  fpread- 
ing  hair  came  Sul-allin,  for  flie  trembled  for  her  king. 
He  ftopt  the  rufluug  Urife,  to  fave  the  love  of  heroes. 
The  foe  fled  by  night  :  Clunar  flept  without  his  blood  ; 
the  blood  which  ought  to  be  poured  upon  the  warrior's 
tomb. 

"  Nor  rofe  the  rage  of  Son-mor;  but  his  days  were 
filent  and  dark.  Sul-allin  wandered,  by  her  grey  ftreams, 
with  her  tearful  eyes.  Often  did  fhe  look  on  the  hero,  when 
he  was  folded  in  his  thoughts.  But  fhe  fhTunk  from  his 
eyes,  and  turned  her  lone  fleps  away.  Battles  rofe,  like  a 
tempeft,  and  drove  the  milt  from  his  foul.  He  beheld, 
with  joy,  her  fteps  in  the  hall,  and  the  white-rifmg  of  her 
hands  on  the  harp." 

j-  In  his  arms  llrode  the  chief  of  Atha,  to  where  his 
fhield  hung,  high,  in  night ;  high  on  a  molfy  bough,  over 
Lubar's  ftreamy  roar.  Seven  bofl'es  role  on  the  fhield  ; 
the  feven  voices  of  the  king,  which  his  warriors  received, 
from  the  wind,  and  marked  over  all  their  tribes. 

On  each  bofs  is  placed  a  ftar  of  night :  Canmathon, 
with  beams  uniliorn ;  Col-derna,  rifmg  from  a  cloud  ; 
Uloicho,  robed  in  mid  ;  and  the  foft  beam  of  Cathlin, 
glittering  on  a  rock.  Smiling,  on  its  own  blue  wave, 
Reldurath  half-fmks  its  weftern  light.  The  red  eye  of 
Berthin  looks,  through  a  grove,  on  the  hunter,  as  he  re- 
turns, by  night,  with  the  fpoils  of  the  bounding  roe. 
"Wide,  in  the  midfl,  arofe  the  cloudlefs  beams  of  Ton- 

thena, 

*  Suil-alluin,  bcaiiUful;  the  wife  of  Son-mor. 

+  To  avoid  multiplying  notes,  1  fhall  give  here  the  fignificatlon  of  the  names  of 
the  ftais,  engraved  on  the  fliield.  Cean-mathon,  head  of  the  bear.  Col-derm,  JIa7it 
and  fmrp  Seam.  Ul-oicho,  ruier  of  night.  Cathlin,  Seam  of  the  wave.  Reul- 
durath,  Jlaf  of  the  twilight.  Berthin,  Jire  of  the  hill.  Ton-thena,  miteor  of  the 
waves.  Thcle  etymologies,  excepting  that  of  Cean-mathon.  are  pretty  exact. 
Of  it  I  am  not  fo  certain  ;  for  it  is  not  very  probable,  that  the  ?ir-bolg  had  diftin- 
gui fired  a  conftellation,  lo  very  early  as  the  days  of  Larthon,  by  the  name  of  the 
bear. 


Book  VII.        An   EPIC   POEM.  335 

tbena,  that  ftar  which  looked,  by  night,  on  the  coiirfe  of 
the  fea-toffed  Larthon :  Larthon,  the  firft  of  Bolga's  race 
who  travelled  on  the  winds  *.  White-bofomed  fpread 
the  fails  of  the  king,  towards  ftreamy  Inis-fail  ;  dun 
night  was  rolled  before  him,  with  its  Ikirts  of  miff.  Un- 
con.T:ant  blew  the  winds,  and  rolled  him  from  wave  to 
wave.  Then  rofe  the  fiery-haired  Ton-thena,  and  fmiled 
f'  i^rn  her  parted  cloud.  Larthonf  blelfed  the  well-known 
beam,  as  it  faint-gleamed  on  the  deep. 

Beneath  the  fpear  of  Cathmor,  rofe  that  voice  which 
awakes  the  bards.  They  came,  dark-winding,  from  every 
fide  ;  each  with  the  found  of  his  harp.  Before  them  re- 
joiced the  king,  as  the  traveller,  in  the  day  of  the  fun  ; 
when  he  hears,  far-rolling  around,  the  murmur  of  molTy 
ftreams  ;  dreams  that  burft,  in  the  defart,  from  the  rock 
of  roes. 

"  Why,"  faid  Fonar,  "  hear  we  the  voice  of  the  king, 
in  the  feafon  of  his  reft  ?  Were  the  dim  forms  of  thy  fa- 
thers bending  in  thy  dreams  ?  Perhaps  they  ftand  on  that 
cloud,  and  wait  for  Fonar's  fong  :  often  they  come  to  the 
fields  where  their  fons  are  to  lift  the  fpear.  Or  Ihall  our 
voice  arife  for  him  who  lifts  the  fpear  no  more  ;  he  that 
confumed  the  field,  from  Moma  of  the  groves  ?" 

<s  Not  forgot  is  that  cloud  in  war,  bard  of  other  times. 
High  fhall  his  tomb  rife,  on  Moi-lena,  the  dwelling  of  re- 
nown. 

*  To  travel  on  the  winds,  a  poetical  exprcflion  for  failing. 

+  Larthon  is  compounded  of  Lear,  fea,  and  than,  wave.  This  name  was  given 
to  the  chief  of  the  firft  colony  of  the  Fir-bolg,  who  fettled  in  Ireland,  on  account 
of  his  knowledge  in  navigation.  A  part  of  an  old  poem  is  ftill  ext.int,  concerning 
this  hero.  It  abounds  with  thofe  romantic  fables  of  giants  and  magicians,  which 
diftinguifhed  the  compofitionsof  the  lefs  ancient  bards.  The  dcfciiptior.s,  contain- 
ed in  it,  are  ingenious,  and  proportionable  to  the  magnitude  of  the  pcrfons  intro- 
duced ;  but,  being  unnatuial,  they  are  infipid  and  tedious.  Had  the  bard  kept 
within  the  bounds  of  probability,  his  genius  was  far  from  being  contemptible.  The 
exordium  of  his  poem  is  not  deflitute  of  merit;  but  it  is  the  only  part  of  it,  that  I 
think  worthy  of  being  prefented  to  the  reader. 

"  Who  firft  fent  the  black  ftiip,  through  ocean,  like  a  whale  through  the  buifting 
of  foam  ?  Look,  from  thv  darknefs,  on  Cronath,  Oflian  of  the  harps  of  old !  Send 
thy  light  on  the  blue-rolling  waters,  that  I  may  behold  the  king.  I  lee  hitn  dark 
in  his  own  fhell  of  oak!  fea-tofted  Larthon,  thy  ioul  is  ftrong.  It  is  cielefs  as  the 
^vind  of  thy  fails ;  as  the  wave  that  rolls  by  thy'fide.  But  the  filen:  green  iflc  is  be- 
fore  thee,  wiih  Its  fons,  who  are  tall  as  woody  Lumon ;  Luinon  which  fends,  front 
its  top,  a  thoufand  ftreams,  white-wandering  down  its  fides." 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  for  th.e  credit  of  this  bard,  to  tranflate  no  more  of  this  poem, 
for  the  continuation  of  his  defcriptioii  of  the  Iiilh  giants  betrays  his  waut  of  judg- 
ment. 


33^ 


T    E    M    O    H    A 


nown.  But,  now,  rcll  back  my  foul  to  the  times  of  mf 
fathers  ;  to  the  years  when  firft  they  rofe  on  Inis-huna's 
waves.  Nor  alone  pltafant  to  Cathmor  is  the  remembrance 
of  wood-covered  Lumon  :  Lumon  of  the  ftreams,  the 
dwelling  of  white-bofomed  maids." 

*"  Lumon  of  the  ftreams,  thou  rifeft  on  Fonar's  foul ! 
Thy  fun  is  on  thy  fide,  on  the  rocks  of  thy  bending  trees. 
The  dun  roe  is  feen  from  thy  furze  :  the  deer  lifts  his 
branchy  head  ;  for  he  fees,  at  times,  the  hound,  on  the 
half-covered  heath.  Slow,  on  the  vale,  are  the  fteps  of 
maids,  the  white-armed  daughters  of  the  bow  :  they  lift 
their  blue  eyes  to  the  hill,  from  amidft  their  wandering 
leeks.  Not  there  is  the  ftride  of  Larthon,  chief  of  Inis- 
huna.  He  mounts  the  wave  on  his  own  dark  oak,  in  Clu- 
ba's  ridgy  bay  :  that  oak  which  he  cut  from  Lumon,  to 
bound  along  the  fea.  The  maids  turn  their  eyes  away, 
left  the  king  ftiould  be  lowly-laid ;  for  never  had  they  feen 
a  fliip,  dark  rider  of  the  wave ! 

"  Now  he  dares  to  call  the  winds,  and  to  mix  with  the 
mift  of  ocean.  Blue  Tnis-fail  rofe,  in  fmoke ;  but  dark- 
ftiirted  night  came  dov/n.  The  fons  of  Bolga  feared.  The 
fiery  haired  Ton-rhena  rofe.  Culbin's  bay  received  the 
fhip,  in  the  bofom  of  its  echoing  woods.  There,  iffued  a 
ft  ream,  from  Duthu.ma's  horrid  cave;  where  fpirits  gleam- 
ed, at  times,  with  their  half-finiflied  forms. 

"  Dreams  defcended  on  Larthon:  he  faw  feven  fpi- 
rits of  his  fathers.  He  heard  their  half-formed  words,  and 
dimly  beheld  the  times  to  come.  He  beheld  the  kings  of 
Atha,  the  ions  of  future  days.  They  led  their  hofts,  along 
the  field,  like  rid,f:;es  of  mift,  which  winds  pour,  in  au- 
tumn, over  Atha  of  the  groves. 

"  Larthon  raifed  the  haU  of  Samla  f ,  to  the  mufic 
of  the  harp.  He  went  forth  to  the  roes  of  Erin,  to  their 
wonted  ftreams.  Nor  did  he  forget  green-headed  Lumon : 
he  often  bounded  over  his  feas,  to  where  white-handed 

Flathal 

*  Lumon  was  a  hill,  in  Inis-buna,  near  the  rcfidcnce  of  Sul-malla.  This  epi- 
fode  has  an  in:mediat^  conne6tion  uith  what  is  faid  of  Laithon,  in  the  defcription 
of  Cathnior's  fliitld. 

+  Samla,  apparitiom,  fo  cal!,d  from  the  vifion  of  Larthon,  concerning  his  pof- 

terlty. 


Book  VII.        An  EPIC   POEM.  337 

Flathal  *  looked  from  the  hill  of  roes.  Lumon  of  the 
foamy  flreams,  thou  rifeft  on  Fonar's  foul  !'* 

Morning  pours  from  the  eafl.  The  mifty  heads  of 
the  mountams  rife.  Valleys  fhew,  on  every  fide,  the  grey- 
winding  of  their  llreams.  His  hofl  heard  the  ihield  of 
Cathmor :  at  once  they  role  around  ;  like  a  crowded  feaj 
when  firll  it  feels  the  wings  of  the  wind.  The  waves 
know  not  whither  to  roll  ;  they  lift  their  troubled  heads. 

Sad  and  flow  retired  Sul-malla  to  Lona  of  the  fireamsi 
She  went,  and  often  turned;  her  blue-eyes  rolled  in  tears* 
But  when  fhe  came  to  the  rock,  that  darkly-covered  Lo- 
na's  vale,  fhe  looked,  from  her  burfting  foul,  on  the  king, 
and  funk,  at  once,  behind. 

Son  of  Alpin,  ftrike  the  firing.  Is  there  aught  of  joy 
in  the  harp  ?  Pour  it  then  on  the  foul  of  OfTian:  it  is  fold- 
ed in  mift.  I  hear  thee,  O  bard,  in  my  night.  But  ceafe 
the  lightly-trembling  found.  The  joy  of  grief  belongs  to 
OlTian,  amidfl  his  dark-brown  years. 

Green  thorn  of  the  hill  of  ghofts,  that  fhakefl  thy  head 
to  nightly  winds  !  I  hear  no  found  in  thee  ;  is  there  no 
fpirit's  windy  fkirt  now  rultling  in  thy  leaves  ?  Often  are 
the  fleps  of  the  dead,  in  the  dark-eddying  blafts ;  when 
the  moon,  a  dun  fhield,  from  the  eafl,  is  rolled  along  the 
fky. 

Ullin,  Carril,  and  Ryno,  voices  of  the  days  of  old ! 
Let  me  hear  you,  while  yet  it  is  dark,  to  pleafe  and  awake 
my  foul.  I  hear  you  not,  ye  fons  of  fong.  In  what  hall 
of  the  clouds  is  your  refl  ?  Do  you  touch  the  fhadowy 
harp,  robed  with  morning  mifl,  where  the  ruflling  fu!» 
comes  forth  from  his  green-headed  waves  ? 

+  Flathal,  heavenly^  exquijitdy  beautiful .     She  was  the  wife  of  Larthon, 


Uu  TEMORx\ 


:       E       M       O       R       A: 

A  N 

EPIC         POEM. 
BOOK    VIII. 


ARGUMENT. 

THE  fourth  morning,  from  the  opening  of  the  poem,  comes  on.  Fingal  flill  con- 
tinuing in  the  place,  to  which  he  had  retired  on  the  preceding  night,  is  fecn, 
at  intervals,  through  the  mid,  which  covered  the  rock  of  Cormul.  The  defcent 
of  the  king  is  defcribed.  He  orders  Gaul,  Dermid,  and  Carril  the  bard,  to  go 
to  the  valley  of  Cluna,  and  conduft,  from  thence,  to  the  Caledonian  army,  Fe- 
rad-artho,  the  fon  of  Cairbre,  the  only  perfon  remaining  of  the  family  of  Conar, 
the  firfl;  king  of  Ireland.  The  kigg  takes  the  command  of  the  army,  and  pre- 
pares for  battle.  Marching  towards  the  enemy,  he  comes  to  the  cave  of  Lubar, 
where  the  body  of  Fillan  lay.  Upon  feeing  his  dog  Bian,  who  lay  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  cave,  his  grief  returns.  Cathmor  arranges  the  Irifh  army  in  order 
of  battle.  The  appearance  of  that  hero.  The  general  conflict  is  defcribed.  The 
aftions  of  Fingal  and  Cathmor.  A  ftorm.  The  total  rout  of  the  Fir-bolg.  The 
two  kings  engage,  in  a  column  of  mift,  on  the  banks  of  Lubar.  Their  attitude 
and  conSsrence  after  the  combat.  The  death  of  Cathmor.  Fingal  refigns  the 
fpear  of  Trcnmor  to  Offian.  The  ceremonies  obferved  on  that  occafion.  The 
fpirit  of  Cathmor,  in  the  mean  time,  appears  to  Sul-malla,  in  the  valley  of 
Lona.  Her  forrow.  Evening  comes  on.  A  feail  is  prepared.  The  coming 
of  Ferad-artho  is  announced  by  the  fongs  of  an  hundred  bards.  The  poem  clof- 
es  with  a  fpeech  of  Fingal. 

AS  when  the  wintry  winds  have  feized  the  waves  of 
the  mountain-lake,  have  feized  them,  in  ftormy 
night,  and  clothed  them  over  with  ice ;  white,  to  the 
hunter's  early  eye,  the  billows  feem  to  roll.  He  turns  his 
ear  to  the  found  of  each  unequal  ridge.  But  each  is  fi- 
lent,  gleaming,  ftrewn  with  bows  and  tufts  of  grafs,  which 
Ihake  and  whiftle  to  the  wind,  over  their  grey  feats  of  froft. 
So  filent  fhone  to  the  morning  the  ridges  of  Morven's  hoft, 
as  each  warrior  looked  up  from  his  helmet  towards  the, 

hill 


o 


40  T    E    M    O    R    A: 


hill  of  the  king  ;  the  cloud-covered  hill  of  Fingal,  where 
he  ftrode,  in  the  folds  of  mift.  At  times  is  the  hero  feen, 
greatly  dim,  in  all  his  arms.  From  thought  to  thought 
rolled  the  war,  along  his  mighty  foul. 

Now  is  the  coming  forth  of  the  king.  Firfl  appeared 
the  fword  of  Luno  ;  the  fpear  half-ifiuing  from  a  cloud, 
the  fhield  flill  dim  in  mift.  But  when  the  ftride  of  the 
king  came  abroad,  with  all  his  grey,  dewy  locks  in  the 
wind  J  then  rofe  the  fhouts  of  his  hoft,  over  every  moving 
tribe,  They  gathered,  gleaming,  round,  with  all  their 
echoing  fliields.  So  rife  the  green  feas  round  a  fpirit, 
that  comes  down  from  the  fqually  wind.  The  traveller 
hears  the  found  afar,  and  lifts  his  head  over  the  rock.  He 
looks  on  the  troubled  bay,  and  thinks  he  dimly  fees  the 
form.  The  waves  fport,  unwieldy,  round,  with  ail  their 
backs  of  foam. 

Far-distant  ftood  the  fon  of  Morni,  Duthno's  race, 
and  Cona's  bard.  We  ftood  far-diftant;  each  beneath  his 
tree.  We  fliunned  the  eyes  of  the  king;  we  had  not  con- 
quered in  the  field.  A  little  ftream  rolled  at  rny  feet :  I 
touched  its  light  wave,  with  my  fpear :  I  touched  it  with 
my  fpear  ;  nor  there  was  the  foul  of  Oflian.  It  darkly  rofe, 
from  thought  to  thought,  and  fent  abroad  the  figh. 

•*  Son  of  Morni,"  faid  the  king,  "  Dermid,  hunter  of 
roes!  why  are  ye  dark,  like  two  rocks,  each  with  its  trick- 
ling waters  ?  No  wrath  gathers  on  Fingai's  foul,  againft 
the  chiefs  of  men.  Ye  are  my  ftrength  in  battle;  the  kind- 
ling of  my  joy  in  peace.  My  early  voice  has  been  a  plea- 
fant  gale  to  your  ears,  W'hen  Fillan  prepared  the  bow.  The 
fon  of  Fingal  is  not  here,  nor  yet  the  chace  of  the  bound- 
ing roes.  But  why  fhould  the  breakers  of  fhields  ftand, 
darkened,  far  away  ?" 

Tall,  they  .ftrode  towards  the  king  ;  they  faw  him 
turned  to  Mora's  wind.  His  tears  came  down,  for  his 
blue-eyed  fon,  who  ilept  in  the  cave  of  ftreams.  But  he 
brightened  before  them,  and  fpoke  to  the  broad-lhielded 
kings. 

"  Crommal,  with  woody  rocks,  and  mifty  top,  the 
field  of  winds,  pours  forth,  to  the  fight,  blue  Lubar's 
lllreamy  roar.    Behind  it  rolls  clear-winding  Lavath,  in 

the 


Book  VIII.        An  EPIC    POEM. 


341 


the  fllll  vale  of  the  deer.  A  cave  is  dark  in  a  rock:  above 
it  ftrong-winged  eagles  dwell ;  broad-headed  oaks,  before 
it,  found  in  China's  wind.  Within,  in  his  locks  of  youth, 
is  Ferad-artho*,  blue-eyed  king,  the  fon  of  broad-fhield- 
ed  Cairbar,  from  Ullin  of  the  roes.  He  liftens  to  the 
voice  of  Condan,  as,  grey,  he  bends  In  feeble  light.  Fie 
iiftens,  for  his  foes  dwell  in  the  echoing  halls  of  Temora. 
He  comes,  at  times,  abroad,  in  the  (kirts  of  mid,  to  pierce 
the  bounding  roes.  When  the  fun  looks  on  the  field,  nor 
by  the  rock,  nor  ftream,  is  he !  He  fhuns  the  race  of  Bol- 
ga,  who  dwell  in  his  father's  hall.  Tell  him,  that  Fingal 
lifts  the  fpear,  and  that  his  foes,  perhaps,  may  fail. 

"  Lift  up,  O  Gaul,  the  iliieid  before  him.    Stretch, 
Dermid,  Temora's  fpear.    Be  thy  voice  in  his   ear,  O 

Carril, 

*  Ferad-artho  was  the  fon  of  Cairbjr  Mac-Cornmc,  king  of  IicLmr].  He  was  the 
only  one  remaining  of  the  lace  of  Conar,  the  fon  of  Trenmor,  the  fii^ft  Iridi  mo- 
narch, according  to  GflTian.  In  order  to  make  this  paffage  tiioroughly  underfiood, 
it  may  not  be  improper  to  recapitulate  fomc  pan  of  what  has  been  laid  in  preced- 
ing notes.  Upon  the  death  of  Conar  the  Ion  of  Trenmor,  his  fon  Cormac  luc- 
ceeded  on  the  Iri(h  throne.  Cormac  reigned  long.  His  children  were,  Cairbar, 
■who  fucceeded  him,  and  Ros-crana,  the  firft  wife  of  Fingal.  Cairbar,  long  befoic 
the  death  of  his  father  Cormac,  had  taken  to  wife  Bos-gala,  the  daughter  of  Colgar, 
one  of  the  mod  powerful  chiefs  in  Connaught,  and  iiad,  bv  her,  Artho,  afterwards 
king  of  Ireland.  Soon  after  Artho  arrived  at  man's  edate,  his  mother  "Bos-gala 
died,  and  Cairbar  mariied  Eeltanno,  the  daughter  of  Conachar  of  Ullin,  who 
brought  him  a  fon,  whom  he  called  Ferad-artho,  i.  c.  a  man  m  the  place  of  Artho. 
The  occafion  of  the  name  was  this.  Artho,  when  his  brother  was  born,  was  abfent, 
on  an  expedition,  in  the  fouth  of  Ireland.  A  falfe  report  was  brought  to  his  fa- 
ther, that  he  was  killed.  Cairbar,  to  ufe  the  words  of  a  poem  on  the  lubjecl,  dark- 
ened Jh  his  fair-haircd  fon.  He  turned  to  the  young  beam  of  light,  the  fon  (f  Eel- 
tanno of  Conachar .  Thou  fJialt  be  Ferad-artho,  he  faid,  a  fire  before  thy  race.  Cair- 
bar, foon  ahcr,  died,  nor  did  Artho  long  furvive  him.  Artho  was  lucceedcd,  in 
the  Ifiih  throne,  hy  his  fon  Cormac,  who,  in  his  minority,  was  murdered  by  Cair- 
bar, the  fon  of  Borbar-duthul.  Ferad-artho,  fays  tradition,  was  very  young,  when 
the  expedition  of  Fingal,  to  fettle  him  on  the  throne  of  Ireland,  happened.  Du- 
ring the  fliorl  reign  of  young  Cormac,  Ferad-artho  lived  at  the  royal  refidence  of 
'^I'emora,  Upon  the  murder  of  the  king,  Condan,  the, bard,  conveyed  Ferad-ar- 
tho, privately,  to  the  cave  of  Ciuna,  behind  the  mountain  Ciommal,  in  Ulfter, 
where  they  both  lived  concealed,  diiring  the  ufurpation  of  the  family  of  Aiha.  i\ 
late  bard  has  delivered  the  whole  hiflorv,  in  a  poem  jud  now  in  my  poflcirion.  It 
Las  little  merit,  if  we  except  the  fcene  between  Ferad-ariho,  and  the  merfeiigers 
of.  Fingal,  upon  their  arrival,  in  the  valley  of  Cluna.  After  hearing  of  the  great 
nPiions  of  Fingal,  the  young  prince  propoies  the  following  queftions  concerning 
him,  to  Gaul  and  Dermjd.  "  Is  the  kine  tall  as  the  rock  of  my  cave?  Is  his  fpear 
a  fir  of  Cluna?  Is  he  a  rough-winged  hlaft,  on  the  mountain,  which  takes  the  green 
oak  by  the  hesd,  and  tears  it  from  its  hill  ?  Glitters  Lubar  within  his  (IridCj  when 
he  fends  his  '':ately  fleps  along?  Nor  is  he  tall,  faid  Gaul,  a-:  that  rock  :  nor  glit- 
ter dreams  within  his  dride,  when  he  fends  his  ftately  fteps  along  ;  but  hi:,  foul  is 
a  mighty  ilood,  like  the  flrength  of  Ullin's  ftas.'' 


342  T    E    M    O    R    A  : 

Carril,  with  the  deeds  of  his  fathers.  Lead  him  to  green 
Moi-lena,  to  the  duiky  field  of  ghofts  ;  for  there,  I  fall 
forward,  in  battle,  in  the  folds  of  war.  Before  dun  night 
defcends,  come  to  high  Dunmora's  top.  Look,  from  the 
grey  fkirts  of  mift,  on  Lena  of  the  ftreams.  If  there  my 
flandard  Ihall  float  on  wind,  over  Lubar's  gleaming  dream, 
then  has  not  Fingal  failed  in  the  lafl:  of  his  fields." 

Such  were  his  words  ;  nor  aught  replied  the  filent, 
ftriding  kings.  They  looked,  fidelong,  on  Erin^s  hoft, 
and  darkened  as  they  went.  Never  before  had  they  left 
the  king,  in  the  midft  of  the  (lormy  field.  Behind  them, 
touching  at  times  his  harp,  the  grey-haired  Carril  moved. 
He  forefaw  the  fall  of  the  people,  and  mournful  was  the 
found  !  It  was  like  a  breeze  that  comes,  by  fits,  over  Le- 
go's reedy  lake  ;  w^hen  fleep  half-defcends  on  the  hunter^ 
within  his  moffy  cave. 

"  Why  bends  the  bard  of  Cona,"  faid  Fingal,  "  over 
his  fecret  ilream  ?  Is  this  a  time  for  forrow,  father  of  low- 
laid  Ofcar  ?  Be  the  warriors  *  remembered  in  peace  ; 
when  echoing  Ihields  are  heard  no  more.  Bend,  then,  in 
grief,  over  the  flood,  where  blows  the  mountain-breeze. 
Let  them  pafs  on  thy  foul,  the  blue-eyed  dwellers  of  the 
tomb.  But  Erin  rolls  to  war  ;  wide-tumbling,  rough,  and 
dark.    Lift,  Oflian,  lift  the  fliield.    I  am  alone,  my  fon  [" 

As  comes  the  fudden  voice  of  winds  to  the  becalmed 
lliip  of  Inls-huna,  and  drives    it    large,  along  the  deep, 

dark 

*  Malvina  is  fuppofed  to  fpeak  the  following  foliloquy. 

"  Maivina  is  like  the  bow  of  the  ftower,  in  the  fecret  valley  of  ftreams;  it  i* 
briirht,  but  the  drops  of  heaven  are  rolled  on  its  blended  light.  They  fay,  that  I 
am  fair  within  my  locks,  but  on  my  brightnefs  is  the  wandering  of  tears.  Dark- 
nefs  flies  over  my  foul,  as  the  dufivV  wave  rf  the  breeze,  along  the  grafs  of  Lutha. 
Yet  have  not  the  rocs  failed  me,  when  I  moved  between  the  hills.  Pleafant,  be- 
neath my  white  hand,  arofe  the  found  of  harps.  What,  then,  daughter  of  Lutha, 
travels  over  thy  foul,  like  the  dreary  path  of  a  ghoft,  along  the  nightly  beam  ? 
Should  the  young  warrior  fall,  in  the  roar  of  his  troubled  fields  !  Young  virgins  of 
Lutha  arife,'  call  back  the  wandering  thoughts  of  Malvina.  Awake  the  voice  of 
the  harp,  along  m.y  echoing  vale.  Then  fhall  my  foul  come  forth,  hke  a  light  from 
the  gates  of  the  morn,  when  clouds  are  rolled  around  them,  with  their  broken  fides. 

"  Dweller  of  my  thoughts,  bv  night,  whofe  form  afcendsin  troubled  fields,  why 
doll  thou  flir  up  mv  foul,  thou  far-diftanl  fon  of  the  king  ?  Is  that  the  (hip  of  my 
love,  its  dark  courfe  through  the  ridges  of  ocean?  How  art  thou  fo  fudden,  Ofcar, 
from  the  heath  of  fhields  ?" 

The  reft  ot  this  poem  confifts  of  a  dialogue  between  UUin  and  Malvina,  whsre- 
in  the  diftrefs  of  thi  latter  is  cariicd  to  the  higheft  pitch. 


Book  VIII.        An   EPIC    POEM.  343 

dark  rider  of  the  wave  ;  fo  the  voice  of  Fingal  fent  Offian, 
tall,  along  the  heath.  He  lifted  high  his  fhining  fhield, 
in  the  dufky  wing  of  war  ;  like  the  broad,  blank  moon^ 
in  the  fldrt  of  a  cloud,  before  the  ilorms  arife. 

Loud,  from  mofs-covered  Mora,  poured  down,  at  once, 
the  broad-winged  war.  Fingal  led  his  people  forth,  king 
of  Morven  of  itreams.  On  high  fpreads  the  eagle's  wing. 
His  grey  hair  is  poured  on  his  fhoulders  broad.  In  thun- 
der are  his  mighty  ftrides.  He  often  flood,  and  faw,  be- 
hind, the  wide-gleaming  rolling  of  armour.  A  rock  he 
feemed,  grey  over  with  ice,  whofe  woods  are  high  in  wind. 
Bright  ftreams  leap  from  its  head,  and  fpread  their  foam 
on  blaifs. 

Now  he  came  to  Lubar's  cave,  where  Fillan  darkly 
flept.  Bran  ftill  lay  on  the  broken  fhield  :  the  eagle-wing 
is  ftrewed  by  the  winds.  Bright,  from  withered  furze, 
looked  forth  the  hero's  fpear.  Then  grief  flirred  the  foul 
of  the  king,  like  whirlwinds  blackening  on  a  lake.  He 
turned  his  fudden  flep,  and  leaned  on  his  bending  fpear. 

White-breasted  Bran  came  bounding  with  joy  to  the 
known  path  of  Fingal.  He  came,  and  looked  towards  the 
cave,  where  the  blue-eyed  hunter  lay  ;  for  he  was  wont 
to  flride,  with  morning,  to  the  dewy  bed  of  the  roe.  It 
was  then  the  tears  of  the  king  came  down,  and  all  his  foul 
was  dark.  But,  as  the  riling  wind  rolls  away  the  ftorm 
of  rain,  and  leaves  the  white  ftreams  to  the  fun,  and  high 
hills  with  their  heads  of  grafs  ;  fo  the  returning  v/ar  bright- 
ened  the  mind  of  Fingal.    He  bounded  *,  on  his  fpear, 

over 

*  The  Irifli  compofitlons  concerning  Fingal  invariably  fpeak  of  him  as  a  giant. 
Of  thefe  Hibprniun  poems  there  are  now  many  in  my  hands.  F.om  the  language, 
andallufions  to  the  times  in  which  they  were  writ,  I  Ihould  fix  the  date  of  theii 
conipofuion  in  the  fifteenth  and  fixteenth  centuries.  In  iome  pallagcs,  tiie  poetry 
is  far  from  wanting  merit,  but  the  fable  is  unnatural,  and  the  wliole  condutl  of  the 
pieces  injudicious.  I  fhall  give  one  inflance  of  the  extravagant  fictions  of  the  Irifti 
bards,  in  a  poem  which  they,  mofl  unjufily,  afcribe  to  Offian.  The  Uoiy  of  it  i.< 
this:  Ireland  being  threatened  with  an  invafion  from  fome  part  of  Scandinavia,  Fin- 
gal fent  Offian,  Olcar,  and  Ca-olt,  to  watch  the  bay,  in  which,  it  was  expected, 
the;  enemy  was  to  land.  Ofcar,  unluckily,  fell  afieep,  before  the  Scandinavians 
appeared  ;  and,  great  as  he  was,,  fays  the  Irifli  bard,  he  had  one  bad  propeuy,  that 
no  lefs  could  waken  him,  before  his  time,  than  cutting  off  one  or  his  fingers,  or 
throwing  a  gieat  Hone  a^jainft  his  head  j  and  it  was  dangerous  to  come  near  him  on 
thoi'e  occalions,  till  he  had  recovered  himfelf,  and  was  fully  awake.  Ca-olt,  who 
was  employed  by  Oflian  to  waken  his  fon,  made  choice  of  throwing  the  P.onc  aoainft 

hii 


344 


T    E    M    O    R    A: 


over  Lubar,  and  flruck  his  echoing  fhield.  His  ridgy 
hofl  bend  forward,  at  once,  with  all  their  pointed  fteel. 

Nor  El  in  heard,  with  fear,  the  found  :  wide,  they  came 
rolling  along.  Dark  Malthos,  in  the  wing  of  war,  looks 
forward  from  ihaggy  brows.  Next  rofe  that  beam  of  light 
Hidalla  ;  then  the  fidclong-looking  gloom  of  Maronnan. 
Blue-fliielded  Clonar  lifts  the  fpear :  Cormar  fliakes  his 
biilhy  locks  on  the  wind.  Slowly,  from  behind  a  rock, 
rofe  the  bright  form  of  Atha.  Firft  appeared  his  two 
pointed  fpears,  then  the  half  of  his  burnifhed  fhield  ; 
like  the  rifmg  of  a  nightly  meteor,  over  the  vale  of  ghofts. 
But  when  he  flione  all  abroad,  the  hofts  plunged,  at  once, 
into  flrife.  The  gleaming  waves  of  fteel  are  poured  on 
either  fide. 

As  meet  two  troubled  feas,  with  the  rolling  of  all  their 
waves,  when  they  feel  the  wings  of  contending  winds,  in 
the  rock-fided  firth  of  Lumon  :  along  the  echoing  hills  is 
the  dim  courfe  of  ghofls  :  from  the  blafl  fall  the  torn 
groves  on  the  deep,  amidfl  the  foamy  path  of  whales ;  fo 
mixed  the  hofls  !  Now  Fingal,  nov*'  Cathmor,  came  a- 
broad.  The  dark-tumbling  of  death  is  before  them  :  the 
gleam  of  broken  fteel  is  rolled  on  their  fleps,  as,  loud,  the 
high-bounding  kings  hewed  down  the  ridge  of  fliields. 

Maronnan  fell,  by  Fingal,  laid  large  acrofs  a  flream. 
The  vvaters  gathered  by  his  fide,  and  leapt  grey  over  his 
boffy  fhield.  Clonar  is  pierced  by  Cathmor :  nor  yet  lay 
the  chief  on  earth.  An  oak  feized  his  hair  in  his  fall.  His 
helmet  rolled  on  the  ground.  By  its  thong,  hung  his 
broad  fliield.:  over  it  wandered  his  fhreaming  blood.  Tla- 
niin  *  fliall  weep,  in  the   hall,  and  ftrike   her  heaving 

^'^'i^'       '  Nor 

his  head,  as  the  leaft  dangerous  expedient.  The  fione,  rebounding  from  the  hero's 
head,  fliook,  as  it  rolled  along,  the  hill  for  three  miles  round.  Ofcar  role  in  rage, 
fought  bravelv,  and,  fingly,  vanquiOied  a  wmg  of  the  enemy's  army.  Thus  the 
hard  goes  on,  till  Fingal  put  an  end  to  the  war,  by  the  total  rout  of  the  Scandina- 
vians. Puerile,  and  even  defpicable,  as  thefe  fitlions  are,  yet  Keating  and  O'Fla- 
herty  have  no  better  authority  than  the  poems  which  contain  them,  for  all  that  they 
write  concerning  Fion  Mac-comnal,  and  the  pretended  militia  of  Ireland, 

"  Tla-mln,  mildly-fojt.  The  loves  of  Clonarand  Tlamin  were  rendeicd  famous 
in  the  north,  by  a  fragment  of  a  lyric  poem.  It  is  a  dialogue  between  Clonar  and 
'i'lan^/m.     She  begins  with  a  folilcquv    which  he  overhears. 

•  TLAMIN. 


Book  VIII.       An  EPIC   POEM. 


345 


Nor  did  Offian  forget  the  fpear,  in  the  wing  of  his 
war.  He  ftrewed  the  field  with  dead.  Young  Hidalla 
came.  "  Soft  voice  of  dreamy  Clonra  !  why  doll  thou 
lift  the  fleel  ?  O  that  we  met,  in  the  ftrife  of  fong,  in 
thy  own  rufliy  vale  !"  Malthos  beheld  him  low,  and 
darkened  as  he  ruihed  along.  On  either  fide  of  a  flream, 
we  bend  in  the  echoing  ftrife.  Heaven  comes  rolling 
down  :  around  burfts  the  voices  of  fqually  winds.  Hills 
are  clothed,  at  times,  in  fire.  Thunder  rolls  in  wreaths 
of  mift.  In  darknefs  Ihrunk  the  foe  :  Morven's  warrior?; 
ftood  aghaft.  Still  I  bent  over  the  ftream,  amidft  my 
whiftling  locks. 

Then  rofe  the  voice  of  Fingal,  and  the  found  of  the 
flying  foe.  I  faw  the  king,  at  times,  in  lightning,  darkly- 
ftriding  in  his  might.  I  ftruck  my  echoing  fhield,  and 
hung  forward  on  the  fteps  of  Alnecma :  the  foe  is  rolled 
before  me,  like  a  wreath  of  fmoke. 

The  fun  looked  forth  from  his  cloud.  The  hundred 
ftreams  of  Moi-lena  ihone.  Slow  rofe  the  blue  columns 
of  mift,  againft  the  glittering  hill.    Where  are  the  migh- 

X  X  ty 

TLAMIN. 

"  Clonar,  fon  of  Conglas  of  I-mor,  young  hunter  of  dun-fided  roes!  where  art 
thou  laid,  amidft  rulhes,  beneath  the  pafTing  wing  of  the  breeze  ?  1  behold  thee, 
my  love,  in  the  plain  of  thy  own  dark  ftreams !  The  clung  thorn  is  lollcd  by  the 
wind,  and  ruftles  along  his  fliield.  Bright  in  his  locks  he  lies:  the  thoughts  ot  his 
dreams  fly,  darkening,  over  his  face.  Thou  thinkeft  of  the  battles  of  Qft^ian,  young 
fon  of  the  echoing  iflc  ! 

"  Half-hid,  in  the  grove,  1  fit  down.  Fly  back,  ye  mifls  of  the  hill.  Why 
fhould  ye  hide  her  love  from  the  blue  eyes  of  Tlamin  of  harps  ? 

CLONAR. 

"  As  the  fpirit,  feen  in  a  dream,  flies  off  from  our  opening  eyes:  we  think  we 
behold  his  bright  path  between  the  clofing  hills;  fo  fled  the  daughter  ot  Clun- 
gal,  from  the  fight  of  Clonar  of  fliields.  Arife,  from  the  gathering  of  trees;  blue- 
eyed  Tlamin  arifa. 

TLAMIN. 

"  I  turn  me  away  from  his  fteps.  Why  fliould  he  know  of  my  love !  Mv  white 
breaft  is  heaving  over  fighs,  as  foam  on  the  dark  courfe  of  ftreams.  But  he  paOes 
away,  in  his  arms !  Son  of  Conglas,  my  foul  is  lad. 

CLONAR. 

"  It  was  the  ftiield  of  Fingal !  the  voice  of  kings  from  Selma  of  harps !  My  path 
is  towards  green  Erin.  Arife,  fair  light,  from  thy  fiiades.  Come  to  the  field  o4 
my  foul;  there  is  the  fpreading  of  holts.  Aiife,  on  Clonai's  troubled  ioul,  young 
daughter  of  blue-ftiielded  Clungal." 

Cluogalwas  the  chief  of  I-raor,  one  of  the  Hebrides:, 


14^ 


T    E    M    O    R    A: 


ty  kings  ?  *  Nor  by  that  ftream,  nor  wood,  are  they  !  I 
he.ir  the  clang  of  arms  !  Their  ftrife  is  in  the  bofom  of 
that  mift.  Such  is  the  contending  of  fpirits  in  a  nightly 
cloud,  when  they  ftrive  for  the  wintry  wings  of  winds, 
and  the  rolling  of  the  foam-covered  waves. 

I  RUSHED  along.  The  grey  mift  arofe.  Tall,  gleam- 
ing, they  {food  at  Lubar.  Cathmor  leaned  againft  a  rock. 
His  half-fallen  fhield  received  the  ftream,  that  leapt  from 
the  mofs  above.  Towards  him  is  the  ftride  of  Fingal :  he 
fav/  the  hero's  blood.  His  fword  fell  flowly  to  his  fide. 
He  fpoke,  midft  his  darkening  joy. 

"  Yields  the  race  of  Borbar-duthul  ?  or  ftill  does  he 
lift  the  fpear  ?  Not  unheard  is  thy  name,  at  Atha,  in  the 
green  dwelling  of  ftrangers.  It  has  come,  like  the  breeze 
of  the  defart,  to  the  ear  of  Fingal.  Come  to  my  hill  of 
feafts  :  the  mignty  fail,  at  times.  No  fire  am  I  to  low- 
laid  foes  :  I  rejoice  not  over  the  fall  of  the  brave.  To 
clofe  f  the  wound  is  mine.  I  have  known  the  herbs  of 
the  hills  :  I  feized  their  fair  heads,  on  high,  as  they  wav- 
ed by  their  fecret  ftreams.  Thou  art  dark  and  filent,  king 
of  Atha  of  ftrangers  !" 

"  By  Atha  of  the  ftream,"  he  faid,  "  there  rifes  a  mof- 
fy  rock.  On  its  head  is  the  wandering  of  boughs,  within 
the  courfe  of  winds.  Dark,  in  its  face,  is  a  cave,  with  its 
own  loud  rill.  There  have  I  heard  the  tread  of  ftran- 
gers, 

*  Fingal  and  Cathmor,  The  conduft  here  is  perhaps  proper.  The  numerous 
defcriptions  of  fingle  combats  have  already  exhaufted  the  lubjeB.  Nothing  new, 
nor  adequate  to  our  high  idea  of  the  kings,  can  be  faid.  A  cciumn  of  mi/l  is  thrown 
over  the  whole,  and  the  combat  is  left  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader.  Poets  have 
almoi'}  univerfaily  failed  in  their  defcriptions  of  this  fort.  Not  all  the  ftrength  of 
Homer  could  fuftain,  with  dignity,  the  mimtia  of  a  fingle  combat.  The  throwing 
of  a  fpear,  and  the  braying  of  a  fhield,  as  fome  of  our  own  poets  moil  elegantly  cx- 
ptels  it,  convey  no  magi^ifictnt,  though  they  are  Itrikmg  ideas.  Our  imagmation 
iiretches  beyond,  and  confequently  defpifes,  the  delcription.  It  were,  therefore, 
■well,  for  fome  poets,  in  my  opinion,  (thoagh  it  is,  perhaps,  fomewhat  lingular)  to 
have,  fometimes,  thrown  mij'^  over  their  fiuurle  combats. 

+  Fingal  is  very  much  celeb>ated,  in  tradition,  for  his  knowledge  in  the  virtues 
of  heibs.  The  Irifh  poems,  concerning  him,  often  reprelcnt  him,  curing  the 
wounds  which  his  chiefs  received  in  battle.  They  fable  concerning  him,  that  he 
was  in  pOiT;"fllon  of  a  cup.  containing  the  cflencc  of  herbs,  which  inRantaneoufly 
healed  wounds.  The  knowledge  of  curing  the  wounded,  was,  till  of  late,  univer- 
fal  among  the  Hishlanders.  We  hear  of  no  other  diforder,  which  required  the 
{kill  of  phvlir.  Th'  wholefomenefs  of  the  climate,  and  an  aftive  life,  fpent  in 
hunung,  excladea  aiieafes.  -   - 


Book  VIII.        An   EPIC   POEM.     ^     347 

gers*,  when  they  pafled  to  my  hall  of  flielLs.  Joy  rofe, 
like  a  flame,  on  my  foul :  I  bieft  the  echoing  rock.  Here 
be  my  dwelling,  in  darknefs  ;  in  my  grafly  vale.  From 
this  I  ihall  mount  the  breeze,  that  purfues  the  thiille's 
beard  ;  or  look  down  on  blue-v.  inding  Atha,  from  its 
wandering  mift." 

"  Why  fpeaks  the  king  of  the  tomb  ?  Ollian  !  the 
warrior  has  faikd !  Joy  meet  thy  foul,  like  a  ftream, 
Cathmor,  friend  of  ilnrngers  ! — My  fon,  I  hear  the  call 
of  years  ;  they  take  my  fpear  as  they  pafs  along.  Why 
does  not  Fingal,  they  feem  to  fay,  reft  within  his  hall  ? 
Doft  thou  always  delight  in  blood  ?  in  the  tears  of  the 
fad  ?  No :  ye  dark-rolling  years,  Fingal  delights  not  in 
blood.  Tears  are  wintry  dreams,  that  walfe  away  my 
foul.  But,  when  I  lie  down  to  reft,  then  comes  the  niigh- 
ty  voice  of  war.  It  awakes  me  in  my  hall,  and  calls  forth 
all  my  (teel.  It  lliall  call  it  forth  no  more :  Oflian,  take 
thou  thy  father's  fpear.  Lift  it,  in  battle,  when  the  proud 
arife. 

"  My  fathers,  Oflian,  trace  my  fteps  ;  my  deeds  are 
pleafant  to  their  eyes.  Wherever  I  come  forth  to  battle, 
on  my  field  are  their  columns  of  mift.  But  mine  arm 
refcued  the  feeble  ;  the  haughty  found  my  rage  was  fire. 
Never  over  the  fallen  did  mine  eye  rejoice.  For  ihisf,  my 
fathers  fhall  meet  me,  at  the  gates  of  their  airy  halls, 
tall,  with  robes  of  light,  with  mildly-kindled  eyes.    But, 

to 

*  Cathmor  reili;6>s,  with  pleafure,  even  in  his  laft  moments,  on  the  relief  he  had 
ofForded  to  ftrangers.  The  very  tread  of  their  feet  was  pleafant  in  h:s  ear.  His 
hofpitality-  was  not  paffed  unnoticed  by  the  bards;  for,  wuh  them,  it  became  a  pro- 
verb, when  they  defcribcd  the  hofpitable  difpofition  of  a  hero,  that  he  zuas  like  Cath- 
mor of  Atha,  tilt  frimd  of  Jlr angers.  It  will  feem  ftran:;e,  that,  in  all  the  Irilh 
poems,  there  is  no  mention  made  of  Cathmor.  This  muO  be  attributed  to  the  re- 
volutions and  domeSie  confufions  which  happened  in  that  ifland,  and  utterly  cut  off 
all  the  real  trad.tions  concerning;  To  ancient  a  period.  All  that  we  have  reh.tcd  t)f 
the  ftate  of  Ireland  before  the  hfth  century  is  of  late  invention,  and  the  work  cf  iil 
informed  fenachies  and  injudicipus  bards. 

+  The  Celtic  nations  had  fome  idea  of  rewards,  and  perhaps  of  pumniments, 
after  death.  Thofe  who  behaved,  in  life,  with  bravery  and  virtue,  were  received, 
with  joy,  to  the  airy  halls  of  their  fathers;  hnt  the  dark  in  fcul,  to  ufe  the  expref- 
fion  of  the  poet,  v/ere  fpurned  away  from  the  habitation  cf  heroes,  to  wander  on  all 
the  winds.  Another  opmicn,  which  prevailed  in  thofe  times,  tended  not  a  httlc 
to  make  individuals  emulous  to  excel  one  another  in  martial  atchievemems.  It 
was  thought,  that,  in  the  hall  of  clouds,  every  one  had  a  feat,  raifed  ahov:  ■':•::, 
in  proportion  as  h'i  exceUed  ihcm,  in  valour,  when  he  lived. 


348 


T    E    M    O    R    A: 


to  the  proud  in  arms,  they  are  darkened  moons  In  hea- 
ven, which  fend  the  fire  of  night,  red-wandering  over 
their  face. 

"  Father  of  heroes,  Trenmor,  dweller  of  eddying 
v/inds  !  I  give  thy  fpear  to  Offian  ;  let  thine  eye  rejoice. 
Thee  have  I  feen,  at  times,  bright  from  between  thy 
clouds  ;  fo  appear  to  my  fon,  when  he  is  to  lift  the  fpear : 
then  fliall  he  remember  thy  mighty  deeds,  though  thou 
art  now  but  a  blafl." 

He  gave  the  fpear  to  my  hand,  and  raifed,  at  once,  a 
fione  on  high,  to  fpeak  to  future  times,  with  its  grey  head 
of  mofs.  Beneath  he  placed  a  fword  *  in  earth,  and  one 
bright  bofs  from  his  fhield.  Dark  in  thought,  a-while, 
he  bends  :  his  words,  at  length,  come  forth. 

"  When  thou,  O  Hone,  fhalt  moulder  down,  and  lofe 
thee,  in  the  mofs  of  years,  then  fhall  the  traveller  come, 
and,  whiflling,  pafs  away.  Thou  knovi^'ft  not,  feeble  man, 
that  fame  once  fhone  on  Moi-lena.  Here  Fingal  refigned 
his  fpear,  after  the  lafl  of  his  fields.  Pafs  away,  thou 
empty  fhade  ;  in  thy  voice  there  is  no  renown.  Thou 
dwelleft  by  fome  peaceful  flream  ;  yet  a  few  years,  and 
thou  art  gone.  No  one  remembers  thee,  thou  dweller  of 
thick  milt  !  But  Fingal  lliail  be  clothed  with  fame,  a 
beam  of  light  to  other  times  ;  for  he  went  forth,  in  echo- 
ing fteel,  to  fave  the  weak  in  arms." 

Br-Ightening  in  his  fame,  the  king  (Irode  to  Lubar's 
founding  oak,  where  it  bent,  from  its  rock,  over  the 
bright-tumbling  flream.  Beneath  it  is  a  narrow  plain, 
and  the  found  of  the  fount  of  the  rock.  Here  the  ftand- 
Jird|  of  Morven  poured  its  wreaths  on  the  wind,  to  mark 
the  way  of  Ferad-artho,  from  his  fecret  vale.  Bright,  from 
his  parted  weft,  the  fun  of  heaven  looked  abroad.  The 
hero  faw  his  people,  and  heard  their  Ihouts  of  joy.     In 

broken 

*  There  are  fome  ftones  flill  to  be  feen  in  the  north,  which  were  erefted  as  me- 
morials of  fome  remarkable  tranfaQions  between  the  ancient  chiefs.  There  are  ge- 
nerally tound,  beneath  them,  fome  piece  of  aims,  and  a  bit  of  half-burnt  wood. 
The  caufe  of  placing;  the  lafl  there,  is  not  mentioned  in  tradition. 

+  The  erefline  of  his  ftandard  on  the  bank  of  Lubar,  was  the  fignal  which  Fingal, 
in  the  beginnmg  of  the  book,  promifed  to  give  to  the  chiefs,  who  went  to  conduft 
Ferad-artho  to  the  army,  {hould  he  himfelf  prevail  in  battle.  This  ftandard  here 
is  called  ihi:  fun- beam.  The  reafon  of  this  appellation,  I  gave  in  my  notes  on  the 
poem  intitlcci  Fingal. 


Book  VIII.       An  EPIC   POEM.  349 

broken  ridges  round,  they  glittered  to  the  beam.  The 
king  rejoiced  ;  as  a  hunter  in  his  own  green  vale,  when, 
after  the  florm  is  rolled  away,  he  fees  the  gleaming  fides 
of  the  rocks.  The  green  thorn  fhakes  its  head  in  their 
face  ;  from  their  top  look  forward  the  roes. 

*GREy,  at  his  moffy  cave,  is  bent  the  aged  form  of 
Clonmal.  The  eyes  of  the  bard  had  failed.  He  leaned 
forward  on  his  ftaff.  Bright,  in  her  locks,  before  him, 
Sul-malla  liftened  to  the  tale ;  the  tale  of  the  kings  of 
Atha,  in  the  days  of  old.  The  noife  of  battle  had  ceafed 
jn  his  ear  :  he  ftopt,  and  raifed  the  fecret  figh.  The  fpi- 
rits  of  the  dead,  they  faid,  often  lightened  along  his  foul. 
He  faw  the  king  of  Atha  low,  beneath  his  bending  tre?. 

"  Why  art  thou  dark  ?"  faid  the  maid.  "  The  flrife 
of  arms  is  pad.  Soonf  fhall  he  come  to  thy  cave,  over 
thy  winding  ftreams.  The  fun  looks  from  the  rocks  of 
the  weft.  The  mifts  of  the  lake  arife.  Grey,  they  fpread 
on  that  hill,  the  rufliy  dwelling  of  roes.  From  the  mift 
Ihall  my  king  appear.  Behold,  he  comes  in  his  arms  ! 
Come  to  the  cave  of  Clonmal,  O  my  beft  beloved  !'* 

It  was  the  fpirit  of  Cathmor,  ftalking,  large,  a  gleam- 
ing form.  He  funk  by  the  hollow  ftream,  that  roared  be- 
tween the  hills.  "  It  was  but  the  hunter,"  fhe  faid,  "  who 
fearches  for  the  bed  of  the  roe.  His  fteps  are  not  forth  to 
war  ;  his  fpoufe  expe£ts  him  with  night.  He  fliall,  whift- 
ling,  return,  vv^ith  the  fpoils  of  the  dark-brown  hinds." 
Her  eyes  were  turned  to  the  hill  ;  again  the  ftately  form 
came  down.  She  rofe,  in  the  midft  of  joy.  He  retired 
again  in  mift.  Gradual  vanifh  his  limbs  of  fmoke,  and 
mix  with  the  mountain-wind.  Then  Ihe  knew  that  he 
fell  !  "  King  of  Erin,  art  thou  low  !"  Let  Offian  forget 
her  grief:  it  waftes  the  foul  of  age  1|. 

Evening 

*  The  fcene  is  changed  to  the  valley  of  Lona,  ■whither  Sul-malla  had  been  fent, 
by  Cathmor,  before  the  battle.  Clon-mal,  an  aged  bard,  or  rather  druid,  as  he 
feems  here  to  be  endued  with  a  prefcience  of  events,  had  long  dwelt  there  in  a 
cave.     This  fcene  is  calculated  to  throw  a  melancholy  gloom  over  the  mind. 

t  Cathmor  had  promifed,  in  the  feventh  book,  to  come  to  the  cave  of  Clonmal, 
after  the  battle  was  over. 

II  Tradition  relates,  that  Offian,  the  ne\t  day  after  the  decifive  battle  between 
Fingal  and  Cathmor,  went  to  find  out  Sul-malla,  in  the  valley  of  Lona,  His  ad- 
drcfs  to  her,  follows : 

"  A'A'ake, 


350  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

Evening  came  down  on  Moi-Iena.  Grey  rolled  the 
flreams  of  the  land.  Loud  came  forth  the  voice  of  Finpal ; 
the  beam  of  oaks  arofe.  The  people  gathered  round  with 
gladnefs  ;  with  gladnefs  blended  with  flindes.  They  fide- 
long  looked  to  the  king,  and  beheld  his  unfiniflied  joy. 
Pleafant,  from  the  w^ay  of  the  defart,  the  voice  of  mufic 
came.  It  feerned,  at  firft,  the  noiie  of  a  ftreaiii,  far-dillant, 
on  its  rocks.  Slow  it  rolled  along  the  hill,  like  the  ruffled 
wing  of  a  breeze,  when  it  takes  the  tufted  beard  of  the 
rocks,  in  the  dill  feafcn  of  night.  It  was  the  voice  of 
Condan,  mixed  with  Carrii's  trembling  harp.  They  came, 
with  blue-eyed  Ferad-artho,  to  Mora  of  the  flreams. 
,  SuDDLN  burfts  the  fong  from  our  bards,  on  Lena :  the 
hoft  ftruck  their  iliields  midft  the  found.  Gladnefs  rofe 
brightening  on  the  king,  like  the  beam  of  a  cloudy  day, 
when  it  rifes,  on  the  green  hill,  before  the  roar  of  v/inds. 
He  ftruck  the  bolTy  ftiield  of  kings  ;  at  once  they  ceafe 
around.  The  people  lean  forward,  from  their  fpears,  to- 
wards the  voice  of  their  land*. 

"  Sons 

"  Awake,  thou  daughter  of  Conmor,  from  the  fern-dcirted  cavern  of  Lon?., 
Av.-akc,  ihou  lun-beam  in  deiarts ;  warriors  one  day  muftfail.  They  move  forth, 
iiice  terrible  lights;  but,  often,  their  cloud  is  near.  Go  to  the  valley  of  ftreams, 
to  the  wandering  of  herds,  on  Lumon  ;  there  dwells,  in  his  lazy  mift,  the  man  of 
many  davs.  Bu'.  he  is  unknown,  Sul-malla,  like  the  thillle  of  the  rocks  of  roes; 
it  fl.akcs  its  grey  beard,  in  the  wind,  and  falls,  unfeen  ot  our  eyes.  Not  luch  are 
the  kings  of  men,  their  departure  is  a  meteor  of  fire,  which  pours  its  red  courfe, 
from  the  df  fart,  oyer  the  bofom  of  night. 

"  He  is  mixed  with  the  warriors  of  old,  thofe  fires  that  have  hid  their  heads.  At 
times  lliall  they  come  forth  in  fong.  Not  forgot  has  the  warrior  failed.  He  has 
notfecn,  Sul-malla,  the  fall  of  a  beam  of  his  own:  no  fair-haired  fon,  in  his  blood, 
young  troubler  of  the  field.  I  am  lonely,  young  branch  of  Lumon,  I  may  hear 
the  voice  of  the  feeble,  when  my  flrength  fhall  have  failed  in  years,  for  young  Of- 
€ar  has  ceafed,  on  his  field." —  ***** 

Sul-malla  returned  to  her  own  country.  She  makes  a  confiderable  figure  in  ano- 
ther poem  ;  her  behaviour  in  that  piece  accounts  for  that  partial  regard  with  which 
the  poet  ought  to  fpeak  of  her  throughout  Temora. 

*  Before  I  finifh  my  noies,  it  may  not  be  altogether  improper  to  obviate  an  ob- 
•jeftioti;'  which  may  be  made  to  the  credibility  of  the  flory  of  Temora.  It  may  be 
afked,  whether  it  is  probable,  that  Fingal  could  perform  fuch  actions  as  are  afcribcd 
to  him  in  this  book,  at  an  age  when  his  grandfon,  Ofcar,  had  acquired  fo  much  re- 
-putation  in  arms.  To  this  it  mav  be  anfwcred,  that  Fmgal  was  but  very  young 
[book  4ih]  when  he  took  to  wife  Ros-crana,  who  foon  after  becam.e  the  mother  of 
Offian.  Offian  was  alio  extremelv  young  when  he  married  Ever-allin,  the  mother 
of  Olcar.  Tradition  relates,  that  Fingal  was  but  eighteen  years  old  at  the  birth  of 
his  fon  Oflian;  and  that  OlTlni  was  much  about  the  fame  age,  when  Ofcar,  his 
Ion,  was  born.     Ofcar,  perhaps,  might  be  about  twenty,  when  he  was  killed,  in 

the 


Book  VIII.        An   EPIC    POEM. 


35^ 


"  Sons  of  Morven,  fpread  the  feafl: ;  fend  the  night 
away  in  fong.  Ye  have  fhone  around  me,  and  the  dark 
ftorm  is  pail.  My  people  are  the  windy  rocks,  from  which 
I  fpread  my  eagle-wings,  when  I  ru(h  forth  to  renown, 
and  feize  it  on  its  field.  Offian,  thou  haft  the  fpear  of 
Fingal  :  it  is  not  the  ftalf  of  a  boy  with  which  he  ftrews 
the  thiftle  round,  young  wanderer  of  the  field.  No  :  it 
is  the  lance  of  the  mighty,  with  which  they  ftretched  forth 
their  hands  to  death.  Look  to  thy  fathers,  my  fon  ;  they 
are  awful  beams.  With  morning  lead  Ferad-artho  forth 
to  the  echoing  halls  of  Temora.  Remind  him  of  the 
kings  of  Erin  ;  the  ftatcly  forms  of  old.  Let  not  the 
fallen  be  forgot ;  they  were  mighty  in  the  field.  Let 
Carril  pour  his  fong,  that  the  kings  may  rejoice  in  their 
mift.  To-morrow  I  fpread  my  fails  to  Selma's  fhaded 
walls ;  where  ftreamy  Duthula  winds  through  the  feats 
of  roes.'* 

the  battle  of  Gabhra,  [book  ift]  fo  the  age  of  Fingal,  when  the  decifive  battle  was 
fought  between  him  and  Cathmor,  vvasjuU  (ifty-fix  years.  In  thofe  times  of  ac- 
tivity and  health,  the  natural  ftrength  and  vigour  of  a  man  was  little  abated,  at  fuch 
an  age  ;  fo  that  there  is  nothing  improbable  in  the  aflions  of  Fingal,  as  related  in 
this  book. 


CONLATH 


CONLATH  and  CUTHONA 


P  O  E  M. 


Yy 


ARGUMENT. 

CONLATH  wasthcyoungell  of  Morni's  fons,  and  brother  to  the  celebrated  Gaul. 
He  was  in  love  with  Cuthona  the  daughter  of  Rumar,  when  Tofcar  the  fon  of 
Kinfena,  accompanied  by  Fercuth  his  friend,  arrived,  from  Ireland,  at  Mora, 
where  Conlath  dwelt.  He  was  hofpitably  received,  and,  according  to  the  cuflom 
of  the  times,  feafted,  three  days,  with  Conlath.  On  the  fourth  he  fet  fail,  and 
coafting  the  ijland  of  waves,  one  of  the  Hebrides,  he  faw  Cuthona  hunting,  fell 
in  love  with  her,  and  carried  her  away,  by  force,  in  his  fhip.  He  was  forced, 
by  flrefs  of  weather,  into  I-thona  a  defart  ifle.  In  the  mean  time  Conlath,  hear- 
ing of  the  rape,  failed  after  him,  and  found  him  on  the  point  of  failing  for  the 
coaft  of  Ireland.  They  fought;  and  they  and  their  followers  fell  by  mutual 
wounds.  Cuthona  did  not  long  furvive;  for  {lie  died  of  grief  the  third  day  af- 
ter. Fingal,  hearing  of  their  unfortunate  death,  fent  Stormal  the  fon  of  Moran 
to  bury  them,  but  forgot  tp  fend  a  bard  to  fmg  the  funeral  fong  over  their  tombs. 
The  ghoft  of  Conlath  comes,  long  after,  to  Offian,  to  intreat  him  to  tranfmit  to 
pofterity  his  and  Cuthona's  fame.  For  it  was  the  opinion  of  the  times,  that  the 
feu'.s  of  the  deceafed  were  not  happy,  til!  their  elegies  were  compofed  by  a  bard. 


% 


CONLATH  AND  CUTHOMA 


O  E  M. 


DID  not  OlTian  hear  a  voice  ?  or  Is  It  the  found  oi 
days  that  are  no  more  ?  Often  does  the  memory  of 
former  times  come,  like  the  evening  fun,  on  my  foul. 
The  noife  of  the  chace  is  renewed.  In  thought,  I  lift  the 
fpear.  But  Offian  did  hear  a  voice !  Who  art  thou,  fon 
of  night  ?  The  children  of  the  feeble  are  afleep.  The 
midnight  wind  is  in  my  hall.  Perhaps  It  is  the  fhield  of 
Fingal  that  echoes  to  the  blaft.  It  hangs  in  Oilian's  hall. 
He  feels  it  fometimes  with  his  hands.  Yes  !  I  hear  thee, 
my  friend!  Long  has  thy  voice  been  abfent  from  mine 
ear !  What  brings  thee,  on  thy  cloud,  to  Offian,  fon  of 
generous  Morni  ?  Are  the  friends  of  the  aged  near  thee? 
Where  Is  Ofcar,  fon  of  fame  ?  He  was  often  near  thee,  O 
Conlathj  when  the  found  of  battle  arofe. 
Ghost  of  Con  lath. 

Sleeps  the  fweet  voice  of  Cona,  In  the  mldft  of  his 
ruftHng  hall  ?  Sleeps  Offian  in  his  hall,  and  his  friends 
without  their  fame  ?  The  fea  rolls  round  dark  I-thona  *. 
Our  tombs  are  not  feen  In  our  ifle.  How  long  fliall  our 
fame  be  unheard,  fon  of  refounding  Selma  ? 

OSSIAN. 

O  THAT  mine  eyes  could  behold  thee !  Thou  fitteft, 
dim,  on  thy  cloud !  Art  thou  like  the  mid  of  Lano  ?  an 
half-extlnguiflied  meteor  of  fire  ?  Of  what  are  the  fklrts 
of  thy  robe  ?  of  what  Is  thine  airy  bow  ?  He  is  gone  on 
his  blaft,  like  the  Ihade  of  a  wandering  cloud.  Come  from 
thy  wall,  O  harp  !   Let  me  hear  thy  found.    Let  the  light 

of 

*  I-thona,  ijland  of  waves,  one  of  the  uninhabited  wellernifles. 


356      CONLATH  and  CUTHONA: 

of  memory  rife  on  I-thona.  Let  me  behold  again  my 
friends! — And  Offian  does  behold  his  friends,  on  the  dark- 
blue  ifle.  The  cave  of  Thona  appears,  with  its  moffy 
rocks  and  bending  trees.  A  ftream  roars  at  its  mouth. 
Tofcar  bends  over  its  courfe.  Fercuth  is  fad  by  his  fide. 
Cuthona  *  fits  at  a  diftance,  and  weeps.  Does  the  wind 
of  the  waves  deceive  me  ?   or  do  I  hear  them  fpeak  ? 

TOSCAR. 

The  night  was  ftormy.  From  their  hills  the  groaning 
oaks  came  down.  The  fea  darkly  tumbled  beneath  the 
blaft.  The  roaring  waves  climbed  againft  our  rocks.  Th^ 
lightning  came  often,  and  fhevv^ed  the  blafted  fern.  Fer- 
cuth !  I  faw  the  ghoft  who  embroiled  the  night  |.  Silent 
he  ftood,  on  that  bank.  His  robe  of  mift  flew  on  the 
wind.  I  could  behold  his  tears.  An  aged  man  he  feemed, 
and  full  of  tkought ! 

Fercuth. 

It  was  thy  father,  O  Tofcar.  He  forefees  fome  death 
among  his  race.  Such  was  his  appearance  on  Cromla,  be- 
fore the  great  Ma-ronnan  ||  fell.  Erin  of  hills  of  grafs  ! 
how  pleafant  are  thy  vales  ?  Silence  is  near  thy  blue 
flreams.  The  fun  is  on  thy  fields.  Soft  is  the  found  of 
the  harp  in  Selama  §  :  lovely  the  cry  of  the  hunter  on 
Cromla.  But  we  are  in  dark  I-thona,  furrounded  by  th® 
ftorm.  The  billows  lift  their  white  heads  above  our  rocks. 
We  tremble  amidft  the  night. 

ToSCAR. 

Whither  is  the  foul  of  battle  fled,  Fercuth  with  locks 
pf  age  ?  I  have  feen  thee  undaunted  in  danger:  thine  eyes 
burning  with  joy  in  the  fight.  Whither  is  the  foul  of  bat- 
tle fled?  Our  fathers  never  feared.  Go:  view  the  fettling 
fea.    The  ftormy  wind  is  laid  :  the  billows  fl:ill  tremble 

on 

*  Cuthona,  the  daughter  of  Rumar,  whom  Tofcar  had  carried  away  by  force, 

+  It  was  long  thought,  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  that  florms  were  raifed  by  the 
ghofts  of  the  deceafed.  This  notion  is  ftill  entertained  by  the  vulgar;  for  they  think 
that  whirlwinds,  and  fudden  fqualls  of  wind,  arc  occafioned  by  fpirits,  who  tranf- 
port  themfelves,  in  that  manner,  from  one  place  to  another. 

{{  Ma-ronnan  was  the  brother  of  Tofcar. 

^  Selamath,  btautiful  to  beheld,  the  name  of  Tofcar's  refidence,  on  the  coaft  of 
Ulfter,  near  the  mountain  Cromla. 


A    POEM. 


357 


©n  the  deep.  They  feem  to  fear  the  biafl.  Go  view  the 
fettling  fea.  Morning  is  grey  on  our  rocks.  The  fun  will 
foon  look  from  his  eait ;  in  all  his  pride  of  light !  I  lifted 
up  my  fails,  with  joy,  before  the  hails  of  generous  Con- 
.lath.  My  courfe  was  by  a  defart  ifie,  where  Cuthona  pur- 
fued  ^he  deer.  I  faw  her,  like  that  beam  of  the  fun  that 
ilfues  from  the  cloud.  Her  hair  was  on  her  heaving  bread. 
She,  bending  forward,  drew  the  bow.  Her  white  arm 
feemed,  behind  her,  like  the  fnow  of  Cromla.  Come  to 
my  foul,  I  faid,  huntrefs  of  the  defart  ifle  !  But  fhe  waftes 
her  time  in  tears.  She  thinks  of  the  generous  Conlath. 
"Where  can  I  find  thy  peace,  Cuthona,  lovely  maid ! 

Cuthona  *. 

A  DISTANT  lleep  bends  over  the  fea,  with  aged  trees 
and  mofly  rocks.  The  billow  re  lis  at  its  feet.  On  its  fide 
is  the  dwelling  of  roes.  The  people  call  it  Mora.  There 
the  towers  of  my  love  arife.  There  Conlath  looks  over 
the  fea  for  his  only  love.  The  daughters  of  the  chace  re- 
turned. He  beheld  their  downcail  eyes.  "  Where  is  the 
daughter  of  Ruinar  ?'*  But  they  anfwered  not.  My  peace 
dwells  on  Mora,  fon  of  the  diilant  land! 

To  SCAR. 

Cuthona  fliall  return  to  her  peace  ;  to  the  towers  of 
generous  Conlath.  He  is  the  friend  of  Tofcar  !  I  have 
feafted  in  his  halls.  Rife,  ye  gentle  breezes  of  Erin. 
Stretch  my  fails  towards  Mora's  iliores.  Cuthona  fiiall  reft 
on  Mora  ;  but  the  days  of  Tofcar  muft  be  fad.  I  fhall 
fit  in  my  cave,  in  the  field  of  the  fun.  The  blaft  will 
ruftle  in  my  trees.  I  fliall  think  it  is  Cuthona's  voice. 
But  fhe  is  diflant  far,  in  the  halls  of  the  mighty  Conlath  ! 

Cuthona. 

Ha  !  what  cloud  is  that  ?  It  carries  the  ghoils  of  my 
fathers.  I  fee  the  Ikirts  of  their  robes,  like  grey  and  watry 
mift.  When  fhall  I  fall,  O  Rumar  ?  Sad  Cuthona  fore- 
fees  her  death.  Will  not  Conlath  behold  me,  before  I 
enter  the  narrow  houfe  f  ?  Ossian. 

*  Cu-thona,  the  mournful  found  of  the  waves  ;  a  poetical  name  given  her  on  ac- 
count of  her  mourning  to  the  found  of  the  waves;  her  name  in  tradition  is  Gorm- 
Luil,  the  bhu-eyed  maid, 

t  The  grave. 


358      CONLATH  and  CUTHONA. 

OsSIAN. 

He  fhall  behold  thee,  O  maid  !  He  comes  along  the 
heaving  fea.  The  death  of  Tofcar  is  dark  on  his  fpear. 
A  wound  is  in  his  fide  !  He  is  pale  at  the  ra- ,:  of  Tliona. 
He  fhews  his  ghaftly  wound.  Where  art  thou,  -  Hh  thy 
tears,  Cuthona  ?  The  chief  of  Mora  dies !— The  vifion 
grows  dim  on  my  mind :  I  behold  the  chiefs  no  more  1 
But,  O  ye  bards  of  future  times,  remember  the  fall  of 
Conlath  with  tears.  He  fell  before  his  day.  Sadnefs 
darkened  in  his  hall.  His  mother  looked  to  his  fhield  on 
the  wall,  and  it  was  bloody  |.  She  knew  that  her  hero 
fell.  Her  forrow  was  heard  on  Mora.  Art  thou  pale  on 
thy  rock,  Cuthona,  befide  the  fallen  chiefs  ?  Night  comes, 
and  day  returns,  but  none  appears  to  raife  their  tomb. 
Thou  frighteneft  the  fcreaming  fowls  away.  Thy  tears 
forever  flow.  Thou  art  pale  as  a  watry  cloud,  that  rifes 
from  a  lake ! 

The  fons  of  green  Selma  came.  They  found  Cuthona 
cold.  They  railed  a  tomb  over  the  heroes.  She  reils  at 
the  fide  of  Conlath.  Come  not  to  my  dreams,  O  Con- 
lath  1  Thou  haft  received  thy  fame.  Be  thy  voice  far- 
diftant  from  my  hall,  that  lleep  may  defcend  at  night.  O 
that  I  could  forget  my  friends  ;  till  my  footfteps  fhould 
ceafe  to  be  feen  !  till  I  come  among  them  with  joy  !  and 
lay  my  aged  limbs  in  the  narrow  houfe  ! 

+  It  was  the  opinion  of  the  times,  that  the  arms  left  by  the  heroes  at  home,  be- 
came bloody  the  very  inftant  their  owners  were  killed,  though  at  ever  fo  great  a 
diftancc. 


BERRA- 


BERRATHON: 


POEM. 


ARGUMENT. 

PINGAL,  in  his  voyage  to  Lochlin,  whither  he  had  been  invited  by  Starno  the  fa- 
ther of  Agandeccn,  touched  at  Berrathon,  an  ifland  of  Scandinavia,  where  he 
was  kindly  entertained  by  Larthmor  the  petty  king  of  the  place,  who  was  a  vaf- 
fal  of  the  fupreme  kings  of  Lochlin.  The  hofpitality  of  Larthmor  gained  him 
Fingal's  friendlhip,  which  that  hero  manifefted,  after  the  imprifonment  of  Larth- 
mor by  his  own  fon,  by  fending  Offian  and  Tofcar,  the  father  of  Malvina  fo  of- 
ten mentioned,  to  refcue  Larthmor,  and  to  punlfh  the  unnatural  behaviour  of 
Uthal,  Uthal  was  handfome,  and,  by  the  ladies,  much  admired.  Nina-thoma^ 
the  beautiful  daughter  of  Torthoma,  a  neighbouring  prince,  fell  in  love  and  fled 
with  hun.  He  proved  unconflant;  for  another  lady,  whofe  name  is  not  men- 
tioned, gaining  his  aifeftions,  he  confined  Nina-thoma  to  a  del'art  ifland  near 
the  coafl  of  Berrathon.  She  was  relieved  by  Offian,  who,  in  company  with 
Tofcar,  landing  on  Berrathon,  defeated  the  forces  of  Uthal,  and  killed  him  in 
a  fuigle  combat.  Nina-thoma,  whofe  love  not  all  the  bad  behaviour  of  Uthal 
could  erafe,  hearing  of  his  death,  died  of  grief.  In  the  mean  time  Larthmor  is 
reflored,  and  Offian  and  Tofcar  return  in  triumph  to  Fingal. 

The  poem  opens  with  an  elegy  on  the  death  of  Malvina,  the  daughter  of  Tof- 
car. and  clofes  with  prefages  of  Oflian's  death. 


ERRATHON 


A 


POEM. 

END  thy  blue  courfe,  O  flream,  round  the  narrow 
plain  of  *  Lutha.  Let  the  green  woods  hang  over  it, 
from  their  hills  ;  the  fun  look  on  it  at  noon.  The  thillle 
is  there  on  its  rock,  and  fhakes  its  beard  to  the  wind.  The 
flower  hangs  its  heavy  head,  waving,  at  times,  to  the  gale. 
"  Why  doft  thou  awake  me,  O  gale,"  it  feems  to  fay,  "  I 
am  covered  with  the  drops  of  heaven  ?  The  time  of  my 
fading  is  near,  the  blaft  that  fliall  fcatter  my  leaves.  To- 
morrow fliall  the  traveller  come ;  he  that  faw  me  in  my 
beauty  fhall  come.  His  eyes  will  fearch  the  field,  but 
they  will  not  find  me  ?"  So  fliall  they  fearch  in  vain,  for 
the  voice  of  Cona,  after  it  has  failed  in  the  field.  The 
hunter  fhall  come  forth  in  the  morning,  and  the  voice  of 
my  harp  fliall  not  be  heard.  "  Where  is  the  fon  of  car- 
borne  Fingal  ?"  The  tear  will  be  on  his  cheek!  Then 
come  thou,  O  Malvina,  with  all  thy  mufic  come.  Lay 
OfTian  in  the  plain  of  Lutha :  let  his  tomb  rife  in  the 
lovely  field. 

Malvina  !  where  art  thou,  with  thy  fongs,  with  the 
foft  found  of  thy  fleps  ?  Son  |  of  Alpin,  art  thou  near  ? 
where  is  the  daughter  of  Tofcar  ?  "  I  paffed,  O  fon  of 
Fingal,  by  Tor-iutha's  moffy  walls.  The  fnioke  of  the 
hall  was  ceafed.  Silence  was  amonc^  the  trees  of  the  hill. 
The  voice  of  the  chace  was  over.  I  faw  the  daughters  of 
the  bow.  I  afl-ied  about  Malvina,  but  they  anfwered  not. 
They  turned  their  faces  away:  thin  darknefs  covered  their 
beauty.  They  were  like  ftars,  on  a  rainy  hill,  by  night, 
each  looking  faintly  through  her  mifl." 

Z  z  Pleasant 

*  L\ix\\3,  fw/ft  Jircam. 

+   His  father  was  one  of  Fingal's  principal  bards,  and  he  had  a  poetical  genius. 


362 


BERRATHON: 


Pleasant*  be  thy  reft,  O  lovely  beam!  foon  haft 
thou  fet  on  our  hills !  The  fteps  of  thy  departure  were 
ilately,  like  the  moon  on  the  blue  trembling  wave.  But 
thou  haft  left  us  in  darknefs,  firft  of  the  maids  of  Lutha! 
We  fit,  at  the  rock,  and  there  is  no  voice ;  no  light  but 
the  meteor  of  fire !  Soon  haft  thou  fet,  O  Malvina,  daugh- 
ter of  generous  Tofcar  !  But  thou  rifeft  like  the  beam  of 
the  eaft,  among  the  fpirits  of  thy  friends,  where  they  fit, 
in  their  ftormy  halls,  the  chambers  of  the  thunder  !  A 
cloud  hovers  over  Cona.  Its  blue  curling  fides  are  high. 
The  winds  sre  beneath  it,  with  their  wings.  Within  it  is 
the  dwelling  |  of  Fingal.  There  the  hero  fits  in  darknefs. 
His  airy  fpear  is  in  his  hand.  His  fhield,  half-covered  with 
clouds,  is  like  the  darkened  moon  ;  when  one  half  ftill 
remains  in  the  wave,  and  the  other  looks  fickly  on  the 
field! 

His  friends  fit  around  the  king,  on  mift !  They  hear 
the  fongs  of  Ullin:  he  ftrikes  the  half-viewlefs  harp.  He 
raifes  the  feeble  voice.  The  lefler  heroes,  with  a  thoufand 
meteors,  light  the  airy  hall.  Malvina  rifes,  in  the  midft ; 
a  bluilr  is  on  her  cheek.  She  beholds  the  unknown  faces 
of  her  fathers.  She  turns  afide  her  humid  eyes.  '^Art 
thou  come  fo  foon  ?"  faid  Fingal,  "  daughter  of  generous 
Tofcar.  Sadnefs  dwells  in  the  halls  of  Lutha.  My  aged 
fon  II  is  fad  !  I  hear  the  breeze  of  Cona,  that  v/as  wont  to 
lift  thy  heavy  locks.  He  comes  to  the  hall,  but  thou  art  not 
there.  Its  voice  is  mournful  among  the  arms  of  thy  fa- 
thers !  Go,  with  thy  ruftling  wing,  O  breeze  !  figh  on 
Malvina's  tomb.  It  rifes  yonder  beneath  the  rock,  at  the 
blue  ftream  of  Lutha.  The  maids  §  are  departed  to  their 
place.    Thou  alone,  O  breeze,  mourneft  there  !" 

But  who  comes  from  the  dulky  weft,  fupported  on  a 

cloud  ? 

*  (^{llan  fpeaks.  He  calls  Malvina  a  beam  of  light,  and  continues  the  meta- 
phor throughout  the  paragraph. 

+  The  defcription  of  this  ideal  palace  oi' Fingal  is  agreeable  to  the  notions  of 
thofe  times,  concerning  the  (late  of  the  deceafed,  who  were  luppofed  to  purfue, 
after  death,  the  pleafures  and  employments  of  their  former  life.  The  fituation  of 
the  Celtic  heroes,  in  their  feparate  (tate,  if  not  entirely  happy,  is  more  agreeable, 
than  the  notions  of  the  ancient  Greeks  concerning  their  departed  heroes. 
'  11  Ofiian;  who  had  a  great  fricndfliip  for  Malvina,  both  on  account  of  her  love 
for  his  fon  Ofcar,  and  her  attention  to  himfelf. 

§  That  is^  the  young  virgins  who  fung  the  funeral  elegy  over  her  tomb. 


A     POEM.  363 

cloud  ?  A  fmile  is  on  his  grey,  watry  face.  His  locks  of 
mift  fly  on  wind.  He  bends  forward  on  his  airy  fpear.  It 
is  thy  father,  Malvina !  "  Why  fliineil  thou,  fo  foon,  on 
our  clouds,"  he  fays,  "  O  lovely  light  of  Lutha!  But  thou 
wert  fad,  my  daughter.  Thy  friends  had  palled  away. 
The  fons  of  little  men  *  were  in  the  hall.  None  remained 
of  the  heroes,  but  OlTian  king  of  fpears !" 

And  doft  thou  remember  Offian,  car-borne  Tofcarf, 
fon  of  Conloch  !  The  battles  of  our  youth  were  many. 
Our  fwords  went  together  to  the  field.  They  faw  us  com- 
ing like  two  falling  rocks.  The  fons  of  the  ftranger  fled. 
*'  There  come  the  warriors  of  Cona!'*  they  faid.  "  Their 
fleps  are  in  the  paths  of  the  flying  !'*  Draw  near,  fon  of 
Alpin,  to  the  fong  of  the  aged.  The  deeds  of  other  times 
are  in  my  foul.  My  memory  beams  on  the  days  that  are 
paft ;  on  the  days  of  mighty  Tofcar,  when  our  path  was 
in  the  deep.  Draw  near,  fon  of  Alpin,  to  the  laft  found 
of  the  voice  of  Cona  ! 

The  king  of  Morven  commanded.  I  raifed  my  fails  to 
the  wind.  Tofcar  chief  of  Lutha  flood  at  my  fide :  I  rofe 
on  the  dark-blue  wave.  Our  courfe  was  to  fea-furrounded 
Berrathon||,  the  ifle  of  many  florms.  There  dwelt,  with 
his  locks  of  age,  the  (lately  flrength  of  Larthmor.  Larth- 
mor,  who  fpread  the  feafl  of  fliells  to  Fingal,  when  he 
went  to  Starno's  halls,  in  the  days  of  Agandecca.  But 
when  the  chief  was  old,  the  pride  of  his  fon  arofe ;  the 
pride  of  fair-haired  Uthal,  the  love  of  a  thoufand  maids. 
He  bound  the  aged  Larthmor,  and  dwelt  in  his  founding 
halls ! 

Long  pined  the  king  in  his  cave,  befide  his  rolling  fea. 
Day  did  not  come  to  his  dwelling  ;  nor  the  burning  oak 
by  night.  But  the  wind  of  ocean  was  there,  and  the 
parting  beam  of  the  moon.  The  red  ftar  looked  on  the 
king,  when  it  trenbled  on  the  weftern  wave.   Snitho  came 

to 

*  Tradition  is  entirely  filent  concerning  what  paiTed  in  the  north,  immediately 
after  the  death  of  Fingal,  and  all  his  heroes  j  by  which  it  would  fcem  that  the  ac- 
tions of  their  fucceffors  were  not  to  be  compared  to  thofe  of  the  renowned  Finga- 
lians. 

t  Tofcar  was  the  fon  of  that  Conloch,  who  was  alfo  father  to  the  lady,  whofe 
U!ifortunate  death  is  related  in  the  laft  epiftle  of  the  fecond  book  of  Fingal. 

||  Bcrrathon,  aprovwntoryin  themidjl  of  waves. 


3^4 


BERRATHON: 


to  Selma's  hall :  Snitho,  the  friend  of  Larthmor's  youth. 
He  told  of  the  king  of  Berrathon  :  the  wrath  of  Fingal 
arofe.  Thrice  he  aifiimed  the  fpear,  refolved  to  ftretch 
his  h;.ind  to  Ilthai.  But  the  memory  *  of  his  deeds  rofe 
before  the  king.  He  fent  his  fon  and  Tofcar.  Our  joy 
was  great  on  the  rolling  fea.  We  often  half-unfheathed 
our  fwords.  For  never  before  had  we  fought  alone,  in 
battles  of  the  fpear. 

Night  came  down  on  the  ocean.  The  winds  departed 
on  their  wings.  Cold  and  pale  is  the  moon.  The  red 
flars  lift  their  heads  on  high.  Our  courfe  is  flow  along 
the  coail  of  Berrathon.  The  white  waves  tumble  on  the 
rocks.  "  What  voice  is  that,"  faid  Tofcar,  "  which  comes 
between  the  founds  of  the  waves  ?  It  is  foft  but  mournful, 
like  the  voice  of  departed  bards.  But  I  behold  a  maidf. 
She  fits  on  the  rock  alone.  Her  head  bends  on  her  arm 
of  fnow.  Her  dark  hair  is  in  the  v/ind.  Hear,  fon  of 
Fingal,  her  fong;  it  is  fmooth  as  the  gliding  ftream."  We 
came  to  the  filent  bay,  and  heard  the  maid  of  night. 

"  How  long  will  ye  roll  around  me,  blue-tumbling  wa- 
ters of  ocean  ?  My  dwelling  was  not  always  in  caves,  nor 
beneath  the  whiftling  tree.  The  feaft  was  fpread  in  Tor- 
thoma's  hall.  My  father  delighted  in  my  voice.  The 
youths  beheld  me  in  the  fteps  of  my  lovelinefs.  They 
blefled  the  dark-haired  Nina-thoma.  It  was  then  thou  didfl 
come,  O  Uthal !  like  the  fun  of  heaven !  The  fouls  of 
the  virgins  are  thine,  fon  of  generous  Larthmor!  But  why 
doll  thou  leave  me  alone,  in  the  midft  of  roaring  v/aters  ? 
Was  my  foul  dark  with  thy  death  ?  Did  my  white  hand 
lift  the  fword  ?  Why  then  haft  thou  left  me  alone,  king 
of  high  Finthormo  j|.!" 

The  tear  ftarted  from  my  eye,  when  I  heard  the  voice 
of  the  maid.  I  ftood  before  her  in  my  arms.  I  fpoke  the 
words  of  pe^jce !  "  Lovely  dweller  of  the  cave  !  what  figh 

is 

*  The  meaning  is,  that  Fingal  remembered  his  own  great  aClions,  and  confe- 
quently  would  not  fully  them  by  engaging  in  a  petty  war  againft  Uthal,  who  was 
fo  far  his  inferior  in  valour  and  power, 

t  Nina-thoma,  the  daughter  of  Torthoma,  who  had  been  confined  to  a  defart 
ifland  by  her  lover  Uthal. 

II  Finthormo,  the  palace  of  Uthal.    The  names  in  this  epifode  are  not  pf  a  Cel 
t!C  original. 


A    P  O  E  M.  365 

is  in  thy  breaft  ?  Shall  OiTian  lift  his  fword  In  thy  prc- 
fence,  the  dellruftion  of  thy  foes  ?  Daughter  of  Tortho- 
ma,  rife.  I  have  heard  the  words  of  thy  grief.  The  race 
of  Morven  are  around  thee,  who  never  injured  the  weak. 
Come  to  our  dark-bofomed  (hip !  thou  brighter  than  that 
fetting  moon !  Our  courfe  is  to  the  rocky  Berrathon,  to 
the  echoing  walls  of  Finthormo."  She  came  in  her  beau- 
ty ;  flie  came,  with  all  her  lovely  fteps.  Silent  joy  bright- 
ened in  her  face ;  as  when  the  fliadows  fly  from  the  field 
of  fpring ;  the  blue  dream  is  rolling  in  brightnefs,  and 
the  green  bufli  bends  over  its  courfe  ! 

The  morning  rofe  with  its  beams.  We  came  to  Roth- 
ma's  bay.  A  boar  rufhed  from  the  wood :  my  fpear  pierc- 
ed his  fide,  and  he  fell.  I  rejoiced  over  the  biood  *.  I 
forefaw  my  growing  fame.  But  now  the  found  of  Uthal's 
train  came,  from  the  high  Finthormo.  They  fpread  over 
the  heath  to  the  cbace  of  the  boar.  Hi:nfelf  comes  flowly 
on,  in  the  pride  of  his  flrenglh.  He  lifts  two  pointed 
fpears.  On  his  fide  is  the  hero's  fword.  Three  youths 
carry  his  polifhed  bows.  The  bounding  of  five  dogs  is 
before  him.  His  heroes  move  on,  at  a  diftance,  admiring 
the  fteps  of  the  king.  Stately  v/as  the  fon  of  I.arthmor ! 
but  his  foul  was  dark !  Dark  as  the  troubled  face  of  the 
moon,  when  it  foretels  the  ftorms  ! 

We  rofe  on  the  heath  before  the  king.  He  ftopt  in  the 
midft  of  his  courfe.  His  heroes  gathered  round.  A  gray- 
haired  bard  advanced.  "  Whence  are  the  fons  of  the 
flrangers  ?"  began  the  bard  of  fong.  "  The  children  of 
the  unhappy  come  to  Berrathon ;  to  the  fword  oi  car- 
borne  Uthal.  He  fpreads  no  feaft  in  his  hall  :  the  blood 
of  ftrans:ers  Is  on  his  ftreams.  If  from  Selma's  walls  ve 
come,  from  the  mofly  walls  of  Fingal,  chufe  three  youths 
to  go  to  your  king,  to  tell  of  the  fall  of  his  people.  Per- 
haps the  hero  may  come  and  pour  his  blood  on  Uthal's 
fword.  So  lliall  the  fame  of  Finthormo  arife,  like  the 
growing  tree  of  the  vale  !" 

"  Never 

*  Oflian  might  liave  t'louglit  that  his  ki!lin,r;a  boar  op  his  fird  landinj;  in  Berra- 
thon, was  a  good  omen  of  his  future  fuccels  in  that  ifland.  The  prefent  Highland- 
ers look,  with  a  degree  of  fuperftition,  upon  the  fuccefs  of  their  firfl  action,  after 
they  have  engaged  in  any  defperate  undertaking. 


366 


ERRATHON: 


"  Neve  p.  will  it  rife,  O  bard,"  I  faid,  in  the  pride  of 
my  wrath.  "  He  would  flirink  from  the  prefence  of  Fin- 
gal,  whofe  eyes  are  the  flames  of  death.  The  fon  of  Com- 
hal  comes,  and  kings  vanifh  before  him.  They  are  rolled 
together,  like  mift,  by  the  breath  of  his  rage.  Shall  three 
tell  to  Fingal,  that  his  people  fell  ?  Yes  !  they  m.ay  tell  it, 
bard  !  but  his  people  fliall  fall  with  fame  !" 

I  STOOD  in  the  darknefsof  my  ftrength.  Tofcar  drew 
his  fword  at  my  fide.  The  foe  came  on  like  a  fcream.  The 
mingled  found  of  death  arofe.  Man  took  man  ;  fliield 
jnet  fhield  ;  fleel  mixed  its  beams  with  fteel.  Darts  hifs 
through  air.  Spears  ring  on  mails »  Swords  on  broken 
bucklers  bound.  As  the  noife  of  an  aged  grove  beneath 
the  roaring  wind,  when  a  thoufand  ghofts  break  the  trees 
by  night,  fuch  was  the  din  of  arms  !  But  Uthal  fell  be- 
neath my  fword.  The  fons  of  Berrathon  fled.  It  was 
then  1  faw  him  in  his  beauty ;  and  the  tear  hung  in  my 
eye  !  "  Thou  art  fallen*,  young  tree,"  I  faid,  "  with  all 
thy  beauty  round  thee.  Thou  art  fallen  on  thy  plains, 
and  the  field  is  bare.  The  winds  come  from  the  defart  ; 
there  is  no  found  in  thy  leaves  !  Lovely  art  thou  in  deathj 
fon  of  car-borne  Larthmor  !'* 

NiNA-THOMA  fat  on  the  fhore.  She  heard  the  found 
of  battle.  She  turned  her  red  eyes  on  Lethmal,  the  gray- 
haired  bard  of  Selma.  He  alone  had  remained  on  the 
coaft,  v/ith  the  daughter  of  Torthoma.  "  Son  of  the 
times  of  old  !"  flie  faid,  "  I  hear  the  noife  of  death.  Thy 
friends  have  met  with  Uthal,  and  the  chief  is  low  !  O  that 
I  had  remained  on  the  rock,  inclofed  with  the  tumbling 
waves  !  Then  would  my  foul  be  fad,  but  his  death  would 
not  reach  my  ear.  Art  thou  fallen  on  thy  heath,  O  fon 
of  high  Finthormo  !  Thou  didft  leave  me  on  a  rock,  but 
my  fonl  was  full  of  thee.  Son  of  high  Finthormo !  art 
thou  fallen  on  thy  heath  ?" 

She  rofe  pale  in  her  tears.  She  faw  the  bloody  fhield 
of  Uthal.    She  fav/  it  in  Oflian's  hand.    Her  fleps  were 

diftraded 

*  To  mourn  over  the  fall  of  their  enemies,  was  a  prafiice  univeifal  among  the 
Celtic  heroes.  This  is  more  a^rreeable  to  humanity,  than  the  fliameful  infulting  oi 
the  dead,  fo  conmion  in  Homer,  and,  after  him,  fervilely  copied  by  all  his  imita- 
tors, the  Imnrme  Virgil  not  excepted,  who  have  been  more  fuccefsful  in  borrowing 
the  imperfcclions  of  that  great  poet,  than  in  their  imitations  of  his  beauties. 


A    P  O  E  M.  367 

diftrafted  on  the  heath.  She  flew.  She  found  him.  She 
fell.  Her  foul  came  forth  in  a  figh.  Her  hair  is  fpread 
on  his  face.  My  buriling  tears  defcend.  A  tomb  arofe 
on  the  unhappy.  My  fong  of  woe  was  heard.  "  Reft, 
haplefs  children  of  youth  !  Reft  at  the  noife  of  that  moffy 
ftream  !  The  virgins  will  fee  your  tomb,  at  the  chace,  and 
turn  away  their  weeping  eyes.  Your  fame  will  be  in 
fong.  The  voice  of  the  harp  will  be  heard  in  your  praife. 
The  daughters  of  Selma  (hall  hear  It :  your  renown  ftiall 
be  in  other  lands.  Reft,  children  of  youth,  at  the  noife 
of  the  molfy  ftream." 

Two  days  we  remained  on  the  coaft.  The  heroes  of 
Berrathon  convened.  We  brought  Larthmor  to  his  halls. 
The  feaft  of  Ihells  is  fpread.  The  joy  of  the  aged  was 
great.  He  looked  to  the  arms  of  his  fathers  :  the  arms 
which  he  left  in  his  hall,  when  the  pride  of  Urhal  rofe. 
We  were  renowned  before  Larthmor.  He  blefied  the 
chiefs  of  Morven.  He  knew  not  that  his  fon  was  low, 
the  ftately  ftrength  of  Uthal !  They  had  told,  that  he  had 
retired  to  the  woods,  with  the  tears  of  grief.  They  had 
told  it ;  but  he  was  fdent  in  the  tomb  of  Rothma's  heath. 

On  the  fourth  day  we  raifed  our  fails,  to  the  roar  of  the 
northern  wind.  Larthmor  came  to  the  coaft.  His  bards 
exalted  the  fong.  The  joy  of  the  king  was  great.  He 
looked  to  Rothma's  gloomy  heath  :  he  faw  the  tomb  of 
his  fon.  The  memory  of  Uthal  rofe.  "  Who  of  my  he- 
roes," he  faid,  "  lies  there  ?  He  feems  to  have  been  of 
the  kings  of  men.  Was  he  renowned  in  my  hails,  before 
the  pride  of  Uthal  rofe  ?  Ye  are  filent,  fons  of  Berra- 
thon !  is  the  king  of  heroes  low  ?  My  heart  melts  for 
thee,  O  Uthal  !  though  thy  hand  was  againft  thy  father. 
O  that  I  had  remained  in  the  cave !  that  my  fon  had 
dwelt  in  Finthormo  !  I  might  have  heard  the  tread  of 
his  feet,  when  he  went  to  the  chace  of  the  boar  :  I  might 
have  heard  his  voice  on  the  blaft  of  my  cave.  Then  would 
my  foul  be  glad  :  but  now  darknefs  dwells  in  my  halls." 

Such*  were  my  deeds,  fon  of  Alpin,  when  the  arm  of 
my  youth  was  ftrong.  Such,  the  anions  of  Tofcar,  the 
car-borne  fon  of  Conloch.     But  Toicar  is  on  his  flying 

cloud. 

*  OfTian  fpeaks. 


368  B  E  R  R  A  T  H  O  N  : 

cloud.  I  am  alone  at  Lutha.  My  voice  is  like  the  lall; 
found  of  the  wind,  when  it  forfakes  the  woods.  But  Offian 
ihail  not  be  long  alone.  He  fees  the  mill  that  fhall  receive 
his  ghoil.  He  beholds  the  mid  that  fhall  form  his  robcy 
when  he  appears  on  his  hills.  The  fons  of  feeble  men  fhall 
behold  me,  and  admire  the  flature  of  the  chiefs  of  old. 
They  fhall  creep  to  their  caves.  They  fliall  look  to  the 
llvy  with  fear  ;  for  my  fteps  fliall  be  in  the  clouds.  Dark- 
nefs  fhall  roll  on  my  fide. 

Lead,  fon  of  Alpin,  lead  the  aged  to  his  woods.  The 
winds  begin  to  rife.  The  dark  wave  of  the  lake  refounds„ 
Bends  there  not  a  tree  from  Mora,  with  its  branches  bare  ? 
It  bends,  fon  of  Alpin,  in  the  ruflling  blafl.  My  harp 
hangs  on  a  blafled  branch.  The  found  of  its  firings  is 
mournful.  Does  the  wind  touch  thee,  O  harp  !  or  is  it 
fome  palfmg  ghoft  ?  It  is  the  hand  of  Malvina  !  Bring 
me  the  harp,  fon  of  Alpin.  Another  fong  fliall  rife.  My 
foul  fhall  depart  in  the  found.  My  fathers  fhall  hear  it  in 
their  airy  hall.  Their  dim  faces  fhall  hang,  with  joy,  from 
their  clouds  ;  and  their  hands  receive  their  fon.  The  aged 
oak  bends  over  the  flream.  It  fighs  with  all  its  mofs. 
The  withered  fern  whiftles  near,  and  mixes,  as  it  waves, 
with  Offian's  hair. 

Strike  the  harp,  and  raife  the  fong  :  be  near,  with  all 
your  wings,  ye  winds.  Bear  the  mournful  found  away  to 
Fingal's  airy  hall.  Bear  it  to  Fingal's  hall,  that  he  may 
hear  the  voice  of  his  fon  j  the  voice  of  him  that  praifed 
the  mighty  ! 

The  blafl  of  north  opens  thy  gates,  O  king  !  I  behold 
thee  fitting  on  mill,  dimly  gleaming  in  all  thine  arms. 
Thy  form  now  is  not  the  terror  of  the  valiant.  It  is  like 
a  watry  cloud  ;  when  we  fee  the  flars  behind  it,  with  their 
weeping  eyes.  Thy  fhield  is  the  aged  moon  ;  thy  fword, 
a  vapour  half-kindled  with  fire.  Dim  and  feeble  is  the 
chief's  v/ho  travelled  in  brightnefs  before  I  But  thy  fleps  * 

are 

*  This  defcrlption  of  the  power  of  Fingal  over  the  winds  and  florms,  and  the 
image  of  his  taking  the  fun,  and  hiding  him  in  the  clouds,  do  not  correfpond  with 
the  preceding  paragraph,  where  he  is  reprcfented  as  a  feeble  ghoft,  and  no  mote 
Cac  terror  of  the  valiant;  but  it  agrees  wiih  the  notion  of  the  times  concerning  the 
louis  of  the  deceafed,  who,  it  was  fuppofed,  had  the  command  of  the  winds  and 
tlonns,  but  took  no  conccin  in  the  affairs  of  men. 


A     POEM.  369 

are  on  the  winds  of  the  defart.  The  florms  are  darkening 
in  thy  hand.  Thou  takefl  the  fun  in  thy  wrath,  and  hidelt 
him  in  thy  clouds.  The  fons  of  Httle  men  are  afraid. 
A  thoufand  fhowers  defcend.  But  when  thou  comefl  forth 
in  thy  mildnefs,  the  gale  of  the  morning  is  near  thy  courfe. 
The  fun  laughs  in  his  blue  fields.  The  grey  flream  winds 
in  its  vale.  The  bullies  Ihake  their  green  heads  in  the 
wind.    The  roes  bound  towards  the  defart. 

There  is  a  murmur  in  the  heath!  the  ftormy  winds 
abate  !  I  hear  the  voice  of  Fingal.  Long  has  it  been  ab- 
fent  from  mine  ear  !  "  Come,  Offian,  come  away,"  he 
fays :  "  Fingal  has  received  his  fame.  We  paifed  away, 
like  flames  that  had  fhone  for  a  feafon.  Our  departure 
was  in  renown.  Though  the  plains  of  our  battles  are  dark 
and  lilentjOur  fame  is  in  the  four  grey  {tones.  The  voice 
of  Offian  has  been  heard.  The  harp  has  been  ftrung  in 
Selma.  Come,  Offian,  come  away,"  he  fays  ;  "  come, 
fly  with  thy  fathers  on  clouds."  I  come,  I  come,  thou 
king  of  men  !  The  life  of  Offian  fails.  I  begin  to  vanifh 
on  Cona.  My  fteps  are  not  feen  in  Selma.  Befide  the 
ftone  of  Mora  I  fliall  fall  afleep.  The  winds  whiftiing  in 
my  grey  hair,  fhall  not  awaken  me.  Depart  on  thy  wings, 
O  wind  1  thou  canft  not  difturb  the  reft  of  the  bard.  The 
night  is  long,  but  his  eyes  are  heavy.  Depart,  thou  ruft- 
ling  blaft  ! 

But  why  art  thou  fad,  fon  of  Fingal  ?  Why  grows  the 
cloud  of  thy  foul  ?  The  chiefs  of  other  times  are  depart- 
ed. They  have  gone  without  their  fame.  The  fons  of  fu- 
ture years  ftiall  pafs  away  :  another  race  fliall  arife.  The 
people  are  like  the  waves  of  ocean  ;  like  the  leaves  of 
woody  Morven :  they  pafs  away  in  the  ruftling  blaft,  and 
other  leaves  lift  their  green  heads  on  high.  Did  thy 
beauty  laft,  O  Ryno*  ?    Stood  the  ftrength  of  car-borne 

A  a  a  Ofcar  ? 

*  Ryno,  the  fon  of  Fingal,  who  was  killed  in  Ireland,  in  the  war  againft  Swa- 
ran,  was  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  his  perfon,  his  fwiftnefs  and  great  exploits. 
Minvane,  the  daughter  of  Morni,  and  fifter  to  Gaul,  was  in  love  with  Ryno.  Her 
lamentation  over  her  lover  follows. 


I  HE  blufliing  fad,  from  Morven's  rocks,  bends  over  the  darkly-rolling  fea.    She 
>  fees  the  youth  in  all  their  arms.     Where,  Ryno,  where  art  thou  ? 

Our 


c^^o  B  E  R  R  A  T  H  O  N. 

Ofcar  ?  Fhigal  himfelf  departed.  The  halls  of  his  fathers 
forgot  his  fteps.  Shalt  thou,  then,  remain,  thou  aged 
bard !  when  the  mighty  have  failed  ? — But  my  fame  (hall 
remain,  and  grow  like  the  oak  of  Morven  ;  which  lifts  its 
broad  head  to  the  ftorm,  and  rejoices  in  the  courfe  of 
the  wind ! 

Our  dark  looks  told  that  he  was  low!  That  pale  the  hero  flew  on  clouds !  That 
in  the  gials  of  Morven's  hills,  his  feeble  voice  was  heard  in  wind  ! 

And  is  the  fon  of  Fingal  fallen,  on  Ullin's  moffy  plains?  Strong  was  the  arm 
that  vanquifhed  him  !    Ah  me  !  1  am  alone ! 

Alone  I  fhall  not  be,  ye  winds !  that  lift  mv  dark-brown  hair.  My  fighs  fliall 
not  long  mix  with  your  fiream  ;  iox  I  mult  fleep  with  Ryno. 

1  fee  thee  not,  with  beauty's  fteps,  returning  from  the  chace.  The  night  is  round 
Minvane's  have.     Dark  filence  dwells  with  Ryno. 

Where  are  thy  dogs,  and  where  thy  bow?  Thy  Qiield,  that  was  fo  ftrong?  Thy 
fword,  like  heaven's  defcending  fire  ?  The  bloody  fpear  of  Ryno  ? 

I  fee  them  mixed  in  thy  deep  fiiip;  I  fee  them  flained  with  blocj.  No  arms  are 
in  thv  narrow  hall,  O  darkly-dv/elling  Ryno  ! 

When  will  the  morning  come,  and  fay,  "  arife,  thou  king  of  fpears !  arife,  the 
hunters  are  abroad.     The  hinds  are  near  thee,  Rynol" 

Away,  thou  fair-haired  morning,  away  !  the  flumbering  king  hears  thee  not ! 
The  hinds  bound  over  his  narrow  tomb  !  for  death  dwells  round  young  Ryno. 

But  I  will  tread  foftly,  my  king!  and  fleal  to  the  bed  of  thy  repofe.  Minvane 
•will  lie  in  filence,  sor  difturb  the  flumbering  Ryno. 

The  maids  fliall  fcek  me  ;  but  they  (hall  not  find  me  :  they  fliall  follow  my  de- 
parture wnth  fongs.  But  I  fliall  not  hear  you,  O  maids :  I  fleep  with  fair-hairei 
Ryno. 


DISSERTATION 


CONCERNING   THE 


^RA    OF    OSSIAN. 


# 


DISSERTATION 

CONCERNING    THE 

.ERA      ofOSSIAN. 


INQUIRIES  into  the  antiquities  of  nations  afford  more 
pleafure  than  any  real  advantage  to  mankind.  The  in- 
genious may  form  fyftems  of  hiftory  on  probabilities  and 
a  few  fads ;  but  at  a  great  diftance  of  time,  their  accounts 
muft  be  vague  and  uncertain.  The  infancy  of  ftates  and 
kingdoms  is  as  deftitute  of  great  events,  as  of  the  means 
of  tranfmitting  them  to  pofterity.  The  arts  of  polifhed  life, 
by  which  alone  fads  can  be  preferved  with  certainty,  are 
the  productions  of  a  well-formed  community.  It  is  then  hif- 
torians  begin  to  wiite,  and  public  tranfadions  to  be  worthy 
remembrance.  The  adions  of  former  times  are  left  in  ob- 
fcurity,  or  magnified  by  uncertain  traditions.  Hence  it  is 
that  we  find  fo  much  of  the  marvellous  in  the  origin  of  every 
nation  ;  pofterity  being  always  ready  to  believe  any  thing, 
however  fabulous,  that  refleds  honour  on  their  anceftors. 

The  Greeks  and  Romans  were  remarkable  for  this 
weaknefs.  They  fwallowed  the  moft  abfurd  fables  con- 
cerning the  high  antiquities  of  their  refpedive  nations. 
Good  hiftorians,  however,  rofe  very  early  amongfi;  them, 
and  tranfmitted,  with  luftre,  their  great  adions  to  pofte- 
rity. It  is  to  them  that  they  owe  that  unrivalled  fame  they 
now  enjoy,  while  the  great  adions  of  other  nations  are 
involved  in  fables,  or  loft  in  obfcurity.  The  Celtic  nati- 
ons afford  a  ftriking  inftance  of  this  kind.  They,  though 
once  the  mafters  of  Europe  from  the  mouth  of  the  river 
Oby  *,  in  Rufiia,  to  Cape  Finifterre,  the  weftern  point  of 
Gallicia  in  Spain,  are  very  little  mentioned  in  hiftory. 
They  truftid  their  fame  to  tradition  and  the  forigs  of  their 
bards,  which,  by  the  viciftitude  of  human  affair:,,  are  long 

iincc 

^  Plin.  1,  G. 


374     A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

fmce  loft.  Their  ancient  language  is  the  only  monument 
that  remains  of  them;  and  the  traces  of  it  being  found  in 
places  fo  widely  diftant  from  each  other,  ferves  only  to 
ihew  the  extent  of  their  ancient  power,  but  throws  very 
little  light  on  their  hiftory. 

Of  all  the  Celtic  nations,  that  which  poflfefled  old  Gaul 
is  the  moft  renowned ;  not  perhaps  on  account  of  worth 
fuperior  to  the  reft,  but  for  their  wars  with  a  people  who 
hadrhiftorians  to  tranfmit  the  fame  of  their  enemies,  as 
well  as  their  own,  to  pofterity.  Britain  was  firft  peopled 
by  them,  according  to  the  teftimony  of  the  beft  authors  * ; 
its  fituation  in  refpedt  to  Gaul  makes  the  opinion  proba- 
ble ;  but  what  puts  it  beyond  all  difpute,  is  that  the  fame 
cuftoms  and  language  prevailed  among  the  inhabitants  of 
both  in  the  days  of  Julius  Caefar  f . 

The  colony  from  Gaul  poffeifed  themfelves,  at  firft,  of 
that  part  of  Britain  which  was  next  to  their  own  country; 
and  fpreading  northward,  by  degrees,  as  they  increafed 
in  numbers,  peopled  the  whole  iiland.  Some  adventurers 
paffing  over  from  thofe  parts  of  Britain  that  are  wdthin 
fight  of  Ireland,  were  the  founders  of  the  Irifti  nation  : 
which  is  a  more  probable  ftory  than  the  idle  fables  of  Mi- 
iefian  and  Gallician  colonies.  Diodorus  Siculus  ||  menti- 
ons it  as  a  thing  well  known  in  his  time,  that  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Ireland  were  originally  Britons,  and  his  teftimony 
is  unqueftionable,  when  we  confider  that,  ibr  many  ages, 
the  language  and  cuftoms  of  both  nations  were  the  fame. 

Tacitus  was  of  opinion  that  the  ancient  Caledonians 
were  of  German  extrad ;  but  even  the  ancient  Germans 
themfelves  were  Gauls.  The  prefent  Germans,  properly 
fo  called,  were  not  the  fame  with  the  ancient  Celtse.  The 
manners  and  cuftoms  of  the  two  nations  were  fimilar;  but 
their  language  different.  The  Germans  §  are  the  genuine 
defcendents  of  the  ancient  Scandinavians,  who  croffed,  in 
an  early  period,  the  Baltic.  The  Celtas  %,  anciently,  fent 
many  colonies  into  Germany,  all  of  whom  retained  their 
own  laws,  language,  and  cuftom.s,  till  they  were  diflipated, 

in 

*  Csef.  1.  5.  Tac.  A'^nc.  c.  2.  +  Cccfar.  Pomp.  Mel,  Tacitus. 

Ij  Diod.  Sic.1.5.       '  [I  Strabo,  1.  7.  ^  Csf.  L  6.     Liv.   1.   5. 

Tac.  de  mor.  Genu. 


THE  ^RA  OF  OSSIAN.  375 

in  the  Roman  empire ;  and  It  is  of  them,  if  any  colonies 
came  from  Germany  into  Scotland,  that  the  ancient  Ca- 
ledonians were  defcended. 

But  whether  the  Caledonians  were  a  colony  of  the  Cel- 
tic Germans,  or  the  famxC  with  the  Gauls  that  firft  poffef- 
fed  themfelves  of  Britain,  is  a  matter  of  no  moment  at 
this  diftance  of  time.  Whatever  their  origin  was,  we  find 
them  very  numerous  in  the  time  of  Julius  Agricola,  which 
is  a  prefumption  that  they  were  long  before  fettled  in  the 
country.  The  form  of  their  government  was  a  mixture 
of  ariftocracy  and  monarchy,  as  it  was  in  all  the  countries 
where  the  Druids  bore  the  chief  fway.  This  order  of  men 
feems  to  have  been  formed  on  the  fame  principles  -v^ ith 
the  Daftyli  Idasi  and  Curetes  of  the  ancients.  Their  pre 
tended  intercourfe  Vv'ith  heaven,  their  magic  and  divina- 
tion, were  the  fame.  The  knowledge  of  the  Druids  in  na- 
tural caufes,  and  the  properties  of  certain  things,  the  fruit 
of  the  experiments  of  ages,  gained  them  a  mighty  repu- 
tation among  the  people.  The  efteem  of  the  popuhice 
foon  increafed  into  a  veneration  for  the  order:  which  thefe 
cunning  and  ambitious  priefts  took  care  to  improve,  to 
fuch  a  degree,  that  they,  in  a  manner,  engroffed  the  ma- 
nagement of  civil,  as  well  as  religious,  matters.  It  is  ge- 
nerally allowed  that  they  did  not  abufe  this  extraordinary 
power  ;  the  preferving  their  character  of  fanftity  was  fo 
eifential  to  their  influence,  that  they  never  broke  out  into 
violence  or  oppreflion.  The  chiefs  were  allowed  to  exe- 
cute the  laws,  but  the  legiflative  power  was  entirely  in  the 
hands  of  the  Druids*.  It  was  by  their  authority  that  the 
tribes  were  united,  in  times  of  the  greateft  danger,  un- 
der one  head.  This  temporary  king,  or  Vergobretus  f , 
was  chofen  by  them,  and  generally  laid  down  his  office  at 
the  end  of  the  war.  Thefe  prieils  enjoyed  long  this  extra- 
ordinary privilege,  among  the  Celtic  nations  who  lay  be- 
yond the  pale  of  the  Roman  empire.  It  was  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  fecond  century  that  their  power  among  the 
Caledonians  began  to  decline.  The  traditions  concerning 
Trathal  and  Cormac,  anceftors  to  Fingal,  are  full  of  the 
particulars  of  the  fail  of  the  Druids  :  a  fmgular  fate,  it 

m.uft 

*  Csf,  1.  6.  f  Fer-gubrcth,  theman  to  jud^e. 


376      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

mufl  be  owned,  of  priefts,  who  had  once  eflabli(hed  their 
fuperflition ! 

The  continual  wars  of  the  Caledonians  againfl  the  Ro- 
mans hindered  the  better  fort  from  initiating  themlelves, 
as  the  cuftom  formerly  was,  into  the  order  of  the  Druids. 
The  precepts  of  their  religion  were  confined  to  a  few,  and 
were  not  much  attended  to  by  a  people  inured  to  war. 
The  Vergobretus,  or  chief  magiftrate,  was  chofen  with- 
out the  concurrence  of  the  hierarchy,  or  continued  in  of- 
fice againft  their  will.  Continual  power  ftrenp-thened  his 
interefl  among  the  tribes,  and  enabled  him  to  fend  down, 
as  hereditary  to  his  pofterity,  the  ofiice  he  had  only  re- 
ceived himfelf  by  eledion. 

On  occafion  of  a  new  war  againfl:  the  King  of  the  World, 
as  tradition  emphatically  calls  the  Roman  emperor,  the 
Druids,  to  vindicate  the  honour  of  the  order,  began  to 
refume  their  ancient  privilege  of  chufing  the  Vergobretus. 
Garmal,  the  fon  of  Tarno,  being  deputed  by  them,  came 
to  the  grandfather  of  the  celebrated  Fingal,  who  was  then 
Vergobretus,  and  commanded  him,  in  the  nri.me  of  the 
whole  order,  to  lay  down  his  office.  Upon  his  refufal,  a 
civil  war  commenced,  which  foon  ended  in  the  almoft  to- 
tal extinQion  of  the  religious  order  of  the  Druids.  A  fev/ 
that  remained,  retired  to  the  dark.  recelTes  of  their  groves, 
and  the  caves  they  had  formerly  ufed  for  their  meditati- 
ons. It  is  then  we  find  them  in  the  circle  of  Jlones,  and  un- 
heeded by  the  world.  A  total  difregard  for  the  order,  and 
utter  abhorrence  of  the  Druidical  rites,  enfued.  Under 
this  cloud  of  public  hate,  all  that  had  any  knowledge  of 
the  religion  of  the  Druids  became  extind,  and  the  nation 
fell  into  the  laft  degree  of  ignorance  of  their  rites  and  ce- 
remonies. 

It  is  no  matter  of  wonder  then,  that  Fingal  and  his  fon 
Offian  difliked  the  Druids,  who  were  the  declared  enemies 
to  their  fucceffion  in  the  fupreme  magiftracy.  It  is  a  fin- 
gular  cafe,  it  mufl:  be  allowed,  that  there  are  no  traces  of 
religion  in  the  poems  afcribed  to  Offian ;  as  the  poetical 
compofitions  of  other  nations  are  fo  clofely  conneded  with 
their  mythology.  But  gods  are  not  neceffary,  when  the 
poet  has  genius.  It  is  hard  to  account  for  it  to  thofe  who 

are 


THE  ^RA  OF  OSSIAN.  2>n 

are  not  made  acquainted  with  the  manner  of  the  old  Scot- 
tifh  bards.  That  race  of  men  carried  their  notions  of  mar- 
tial honour  to  an  extravagant  pitch.  Any  aid  given  their 
heroes  in  battle  was  thought  to  derogate  from  their  fame  ; 
and  the  bards  immediately  transferred  the  glory  of  the  ac- 
tion to  him  who  had  given  that  aid. 

Had  the  poet  brought  down  gods,  as  often  as  Homer 
hath  done,  to  aflift  his  heroes,  his  work  had  not  confided 
of  eulogiums  on  men,  but  of  hymns  to  fuperior  beings. 
Thofe  who  write  in  the  Galic  language  feldom  mention 
religion  in  their  profane  poetry;  and  when  they  profefledly 
write  of  religion,  they  never  mix  with  their  compofitions, 
the  adions  of  their  heroes.  This  cuftom  alone,  even  tho' 
the  religion  of  the  Druids  had  not  been  previouily  extin- 
guifhed,  may,  in  fome  meafure,  excufe  the  author's  filcnce 
concerning  the  religion  of  ancient  times. 

To  allege,  that  a  nation  is  void  of  all  religion,  would 
betray  ignorance  of  the  hiftory  of  mankind.  The  tradi- 
tions of  their  fathers,  and  their  own  obfervations  on  the 
works  of  nature,  together  with  that  fuperflition  which  is 
inherent  in  the  human  frame,  have,  in  all  ages,  raifed  in 
the  minds  of  men  fome  idea  of  a  fnperior  being.  Hence 
it  is,  that  in  the  darkefl  times,  and  amongft  the  mofl  bar- 
barous nations,  the  very  populace  themfelves  had  fome 
faint  notion,  at  leafl  of  a  divinity.  The  Indians,  who  wor- 
ihip  no  God,  believe  that  he  exifts.  It  would  be  doing 
injuftice  to  the  author  of  thefe  poems,  to  think,  that  he 
had  not  opened  his  conceptions  to  that  primitive  and 
grcateil  of  all  truths.  But  let  his  religion  be  what  it  will, 
it  is  certain  that  he  has  not  alluded  to  Chriftianity,  nor 
any  of  its  rites,  in  his  poems ;  which  ought  to  fix  his  opi- 
nions, at  lead  to  an  sera  prior  to  that  religion.  Conjec- 
tures, on  this  fubjecl,  mull  fupply  the  place  of  proof.  The 
perfecution  begun  by  Dioclefian,  in  the  year  303,  is  the 
moft  probable  time  in  which  the  firft  dawning  of  Chrifti- 
anity in  the  north  of  Britain  can  be  fixed.  The  humane 
and  mild  character  of  Conftantius  Chlorus,  who  com- 
manded then  in  Britain,  induced  the  perfecuted  Chriftians 
to  take  refuge  under  him.  Some  of  them,  through  a  zeal 
to  propagate  their  tenets,  or  through  fear,  went  beyond 

B  b  b  the 


378      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

the  pale  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  fettled  among  the  Ca- 
ledonians ;  who  were  ready  to  hearken  to  their  doctrines, 
as  the  religion  of  the  Druids  was  exploded  long  before. 

These  miflionaries,  either  through  choice,  or  to  give 
more  weight  to  the  do£trine  they  advanced,  took  polTeffion 
of  the  cells  and  groves  of  the  Druids ;  and  it  was  from 
this  retired  life  that  they  had  the  name  of  Culdees*,  which 
in  the  language  of  the  country  {i^m^edifeque/ieredperfons. 
It  was  with  one  of  the  Culdees  that  OlTian,  in  his  extreme 
old  age,  is  faid  to  have  difputed  concerning  the  Chriftian 
religion.  This  difpute,  they  fay,  is  extant,  and  is  couched 
in  verfe,  according  to  the  cuftom  of  the  times.  The  ex- 
treme ignorance  on  the  part  of  Offian,  of  the  Chriftian  te- 
nets, fliews,  that  that  religion  had  only  been  lately  intro- 
duced, as  it  is  not  eafy  to  conceive,  how  one  of  the  firft 
rank  could  be  totally  unacquainted  with  a  religion  that 
had  been  known  for  an,y  time  in  the  country.  The  difpute 
bears  the  genuine  marks  of  antiquity.  The  obfolete  phrafes 
and  expreffions,  peculiar  to  the  times,  prove  it  to  be  jio 
forgery.  If  Offian  then  lived  at  the  introduction  of  Chrif- 
tianity,  as  by  all  appearance  he  did,  his  epoch  will  be  the 
latter  end  of  the  third,  and  beginning  of  the  fourth,  cen- 
tury.   Tradition  here  fteps  in  with  a  kind  of  proof. 

The  exploits  of  Fingal  againft  Caracul  f ,  the  fon  of 
the  king  of  the  worlds  are  among  the  firft  brave  adions  of 
his  youth.  A  complete  poem,  which  relates  to  this  fub- 
ject,  is  printed  in  this  collection. 

In  the  year  210  the  emperor  Severus,  after  returning 
from  his  expedition  againft  the  Caledonians,  at  York  fell 
into  the  tedious  illnefs  of  which  he  afterwards  died.  The 
Caledonians  and  Maiatae,  refuming  courage  from  his  in- 
difpofition,  took  arms,  in  order  to  recover  the  pofleffions 
they  had  loft.  The  em^aged  emperor  commanded  his  ar- 
my to  march  into  their  country,  and  to  deftroy  it  with  fire 
and  fword.  His  orders  were  but  ill  executed,  for  his 
fon,  Caracalla,  was  at  the  head  of  the  army,  and  his 
thoughts  were  entirely  taken  up  with  the  hopes  of  his 
father's  death,  and  with  fchemes  to  fupplant  his  brother 

Geta. 

*  Culdich.  T  Carac'huil,  terrible  eye.      Carac'healla,  imibk  lock,. 

Carac'chaliamb,  afor(  of  upper  garment. 


THE  ^RA  OF  OSSIAN.  379, 

Geta. ^He  fcarcely  had  entered  the  enemy's  country, 

when  news  was  brought  him  that  Severus  was  dead. — A 
fudden  peace  is  patched  up  with  the  Caledonians,  and,  as 
it  appears  from  Dion  Caflius,  the  country  they  had  loft  to 
Severus  was  reftored  to  them. 

The  Caracul  of  Fingal  is  no  other  than  Caracalla,  who, 
as  the  fon  of  Severus,  the  Emperor  of  Rome,  whofe  do- 
minions were  extended  almoft  over  the  known  world,  was 
not  without  reafon  called  the  Son  of  the  king  of  the  laorld* 
The  fpace  of  time  between  211,  the  year  Severus  died, 
the  beginning  of  the  fourth  century,  is  not  fo  great,  but 
Offian,  the  fon  of  Fingal,  might  have  feen  the  Chriftiansi 
whom  the  perfecution  under  Dioclefian  had  driven  be- 
yond the  pale  of  the  Roman  empire. 

In  one  of  the  many  lamentations  on  the  death  of  Of- 
car,  a  battle  which  he  fought  againft  Caros,  king  of  fhips, 
on  the  banks  of  the  winding  Carun*,  is  mentioned  among 
his  great  aftions.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  the  Caros 
mentioned  here,  is  the  fame  with  the  noted  ufurper  Ca- 
raufms,  who  afl'umed  the  purple  in  the  year  287,  and  feiz- 
ing  on  Britain,  defeated  the  emperor  Maximian  Hercu- 
lius,  in  feveral  naval  engagements,  which  gives  propriety 
to  his  being  called  the  King  of  Ships.  The  winding  Canm 
is  that  fmall  river  retaining  ilill  the  name  of  Carron,  and 
runs  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Agricola's  wall,  which  Ca- 
laufms  repaired,  to  obftruft  the  incurfions  of  the  Caledo- 
nians. Several  other  paflages  in  traditions  allude  to  the 
wars  of  the  Romans;  but  the  two  juft  mentioned  clearly 
fix  the  epocha  of  Fingal,  to  the  third  century  ;  and  this 
account  agrees  exaftly  with  the  Iriih  hiftories,  which  place 
the  death  of  Fingal,  the  fon  of  Comhal,  in  the  year  283, 
and  that  of  Ofcar  and  their  own  celebrated  Cairbre,  in  the 
year  296. 

Some  people  may  imagine,  that  the  allufions  to  the  Ro- 
man hiftory  might  have  been  derived  by  tradition,  from 
learned  men,  more  than  from  ancient  poems.  This  mull 
then  have  happened  at  leaft  three  ages  ago,  as  thefe  allun- 
ons  are  mentioned  often  in  the  compofitions  of  thofe  times* 

Every  one  knows  what  a  cloud  of  ignorance  and  bar- 

barifm 

f  Car-ravon,  winding  river. 


38o     A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

barifni  oveffpread  the  north  of  Europe  three  hundred 
years  ago.  The  minds  of  men,  addidled  to  fuperftition, 
contra£led  a  narrownefs  that  deftroyed  genius.  Accord- 
ingly, we  find  the  compofitions  of  thofe  times  trivial*and 
puerile  to  the  laft  degree.  But  let  it  be  allowed,  that, 
amidfl  all  the  untoward  circumftances  of  the  age,  a  genius 
might  arife,  it  is  not  eafy  to  determine  what  could  induce 
him  to  allude  to  the  Roman  times.  We  find  no  fad  to 
favour  any  defigns  which  could  be  entertained  by  any  man 
who  lived  in  the  fifteenth  century. 

The  ftrongeft  objection  to  the  antiquity  of  the  poems 
now^  given  to  the  public  under  the  name  of  Oflian,  is  the 
improbability  of  their  being  handed  down  by  tradition 
through  fo  many  centuries.  Ages  of  barbarifm,  fome  will 
fay,  could  not  produce  poems  abounding  with  the  difin- 
terefted  and  generous  fentiments  fo  confpicuous  in  the 
compofitions  of  Offian  ;  and  could  thefe  ages  produce 
them,  it  is  impoflible  but  they  mull  be  loft,  or  altogether 
corrupted,  in  a  long  fucceffion  of  barbarous  generations. 

These  objed:ions  naturally  fuggeft  themfelves  to  men 
unacquainted  with  the  ancient  ftate  of  the  northern  parts 
of  Britain.  The  bards,  who  were  an  inferior  order  of 
the  Druids,  did  not  Ihare  their  bad  fortune.  They  were 
fpared  by  the  viftorious  king,  as  it  was  through  their 
means  only  he  could  hope  for  immortality  to  his  fame. 
They  attended  him  in  his  camp,  and  contributed  to  efta- 
blifti  his  power  by  their  fongs.  His  great  actions  were  mag- 
nified, and  the  populace,  who  had  no  ability  to  examine 
into  his  character  narrowly,  were  dazzled  with  his  fame 
in  the  rhimes  of  the  bards.  In  the  mean  time,  men  af- 
fumed  fentiments  that  are  rarely  to  be  met  with  in  an  age 
of  barbarifm.  The  bards,  who  were  originally  the  difci- 
ples  of  the  Druids,  had  their  minds  opened,  and  their 
ideas  enlarged,  by  being  initiated  in  the  learning  of  that 
celebrated  order.  They  could  form  a  perfed;  hero  in  their 
own  minds,  and  afcribe  that  character  to  their  prince. 
The  inferior  chiefs  made  this  ideal  character  the  model  of 
their  condud,  and  by  degrees  brought  their  minds  to  that 
generous  fpirit  which  breathes  in  all  the  poetry  of  the 
times.     The  prince,  flattered  by  hi*  bards,  and  rivalled 

in 


THE  JEKA  OF  OSSIAN.  381 

by  his  own  heroes,  who  imitated  his  charafter  as  defcribed 
in  the  eulogies  of  his  poets,  endeavoured  to  excel  his  peo- 
ple in  merit,  as  he  was  above  them  in  llation.  This  emu- 
lation continuing,  formed  at  lafl  the  general  character  of 
the  nation,  happily  compounded  of  what  is  noble  in  bar- 
barity, and  virtuous  and  generous  in  a  polilhed  people. 

When  virtue  in  peace,  and  bravery  in  war,  are  the 
charafteriftics  of  a  nation,  their  adlions  become  intereft- 
ing,  and  their  fame  worthy  of  immortality.  A  generous 
fpirit  is  warmed  with  noble  aftions,  and  becomes  smbiti- 
ous  of  perpetuating  them.  This  is  the  true  fource  of  that 
divine  infpiration,  to  which  the  poets  of  all  ages  pretend- 
ed. When  they  found  their  themes  inadequate  to  the 
warmth  of  their  imaginations,  they  varnifhed  them  over 
with  fables,  fupplied  by  their  own  fancy,  or  furnifhed  by 
abfurd  traditions.  Thefe  fables,  however  ridiculous,  had 
their  abettors  :  pofterity  either  believed  them,  or,  through 
a  vanity  natural  to  mankind,  pretended  they  did.  They 
loved  to  place  the  founders  of  their  families  in  the  days 
of  fable,  when  poetry,  without  the  fear  of  contradidion, 
could  give  what  charadlers  Ihe  pleafed  of  her  heroes.  It 
is  to  this  vanity  that  we  owe  the  prefervation  of  what  re- 
main of  the  more  ancient  poems.  Their  poetical  merit 
made  their  heroes  famous  in  a  country  where  heroifm  was 
much  efleemed  and  admired.  The  pofterity  of  thofe  he- 
roes, or  thofe  who  pretended  to  be  defcended  from  them, 
heard  with  pleafure  the  eulogiums  of  their  anceftors;  bards 
were  employed  to  repeat  the  poems,  and  to  record  the  con- 
nexion of  their  patrons  with  chiefs  fo  renowned.  Every 
chief,  in  procefs  of  time,  had  a  bard  in  his  family,  and  the 
office  became  at  laft  hereditary.  By  the  fucceffion  of  thefe 
bards,  the  poems  concerning  the  anceftors  of  the  family 
were  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation ;  they 
were  repeated  to  the  whole  clan  on  folemn  occafions,  and 
always  alluded  to  in  the  new  compofitions  of  the  bards. 
This  cuftom  came  down  to  near  our  own  times;  and  after 
the  bards  were  difcontinued,  a  great  number  in  a  clan  re- 
tained by  memory,  or  committed  to  writing,  their  compo- 
fitions, and  founded  the  antiquity  of  their  families  on  the 
authority  of  their  po:ims. 

Tkk 


382      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

The  ufe  of  letters  was  not  known  in  the  north  of  Eii= 
rope  till  long  after  the  inftitution  of  the  bards :  the  records 
of  the  families  of  their  patrons,  their  own,  and  more  an- 
cient poems,  were  handed  down  by  tradition.  Their 
poetical  compofitions  were  admirably  contrived  for  that 
purpofe.  They  were  adapted  to  mufic ;  and  the  moll 
perfect  harmony  was  obferved.  Each  verfe  was  fo  con- 
neded  with  thofe  which  preceded  or  followed  it,  that  if 
one  line  had  been  remembered  in  a  ftanza,  it  was  almoft 
impoffible  to  forget  the  reft.  The  cadences  followed  in 
fo  natural  a  gradation,  and  the  words  were  fo  adapted  to 
the  common  turn  of  the  voice,  after  it  is  raifed  to  a  cer- 
tain key,  that  it  was  almoft  impoffible,  from  a  fimilarity 
of  found,  to  fubftitute  one  word  for  another.  This  ex- 
cellence is  peculiar  to  the  Celtic  tongue,  and  perhaps  is 
to  be  met  with  in  no  other  language.  Nor  does  this  choice 
of  words  clog  the  fenfe  or  weaken  the  expreffion.  The 
numerous  flections  of  confonants,  and  variation  in  declen- 
fion,  maka  the  language  very  copious. 

The  defcendents  of  the  Celtse,  who  inhabited  Britain 
and  its  ifles,  were  not  fmgular  in  this  method  of  preferving 
the  moft  precious  monuments  of  their  nation.  The  an- 
cient laws  of  the  Greeks  were  couched  in  verfe,  and  hand- 
ed down  by  tradition.  The  Spartans,  through  a  long  ha- 
bit, became  fo  fond  of  this  cuftom,  that  they  would  never 
allow  their  laws  to  be  committed  to  writing.  The  a£tions 
of  great  men,  and  the  eulogiums  of  kings  and  heroes, 
were  preferved  in  the  fame  manner.  All  the  hiftorical 
monuments  of  the  old  Germans  were  comprehended  in 
their  ancient  fongs  *  !  which  were  either  hymns  to  their 
gods,  or  elegies  in  praife  of  their  heroes,  and  were  in- 
tended to  perpetuate  the  great  events  in  their  nation  which 
were  carefully  interwoven  with  them.  This  fpecies  of 
compofition  was  not  committed  to  writing,  but  delivered 
by  oral  tradition f.  The  care  they  took  to  have  the  poems 
taught  to  their  children,  the  uninterrupted  cuftom  of  re- 
peating them  upon  certain  occafions,  and  the  happy  mea- 
fure  of  the  verfe,  ferved  to  preferve  them  for  a  long  time 
uncorrupted.     This  oral  chronicle  of  the  Germans  was 

not 

*  Tacit,  dc  iTior.  Germ.  ^  Abbi  dtla  Bidcrie  Ranarqitesfur  laGevviaine. 


THE  .^RA  OF  OSSIAN.  383 

aot  forgot  in  the  eighth  century,  and  it  probably  would 
have  remained  to  this  day,  had  not  learning,  which  thinks 
every  thing,  that  is  not  committed  to  writing,  fabulous, 
been  introduced.  It  was  from  poetical  traditions  that 
GarcillaiTo  compofed  his  account  of  the  Yncas  of  Peru. 
The  Peruvians  had  loft  all  other  monuments  of  their  hif- 
tory ;  and  it  was  from  ancient  poems  which  his  mother,  a 
princefs  of  the  blood  of  the  Yncas,  taught  him  in  his 
youth,  that  he  colleded  the  materials  of  his  hiftory.  If 
other  nations,  then,  that  had  been  often  overrun  by  ene- 
mies, and  had  fent  abroad  and  received  colonies,  could, 
for  many  ages,  preferve,  by  oral  tradition,  their  laws  and 
hiftories  uncorrupted,  it  is  much  more  probable  that  the 
ancient  Scots,  a  people  fo  free  of  intermixture  with  fo- 
reigners, and  fo  ftrongly  attached  to  the  memory  of  their 
anceftors,  had  the  works  of  their  bards  handed  down  with 
great  purity. 

What  is  advanced,  in  this  fhort  DifTertation,  it  mull 
be  confefled,  is  mere  conjefture.  Beyond  the  reach  of  re- 
cords, is  fettled  a  gloom,  which  no  ingenuity  can  pene- 
trate. The  manners  defcribed,  in  thefe  poems,  fuit  the 
ancient  Celtic  times,  and  no  other  period,  that  is  known 
in  hiftory.  We  muft,  therefore,  place  the  heroes  far  back 
in  antiquity ;  and  it  matters  little,  who  were  their  cotem- 
poraries  in  other  parts  of  the  world.  If  we  have  placed 
ringal  in  his  proper  period,  we  do  honour  to  the  manners 
of  barbarous  times.  He  exercifed  every  manly  virtue  in 
Caledonia,  while  Heliogabalus  difgraced  human  nature  at 
Rome, 


A 


I   S   S   E   R   T   A   T   I    O    N 


CONCERNING    THE 


POEMS  QF  OSSIAN. 


Cc  c 


k 


DISSERTATION 

CONCERNnTG     THE 

P    O    E    M    S    OF    O   S    S    I    A    N. 


THE  hiilory  of  thofe  nations,  who  originally  poffefled 
the  north  of  Europe,  is  lefs  known  than  their  man- 
ners. Deftitute  of  the  ufe  of  letters,  they  themfelves  had 
not  the  means  of  tranfmitting  their  great  actions  to  re- 
mote poflerity.  Foreign  writers  faw  them  only  at  a  dif- 
tance,  and  defcribed  theni  as  they  found  them.  The  va- 
nity of  the  Romans  induced  them  to  confider  the  nations 
beyond  the  pale  of  their  empire  as  barbarians ;  and  con- 
fequently  their  hiftory  unworthy  of  being  inveftigated. 
Their  manners  and  fmgular  charader  were  matters  of  cu- 
riofity,  as  they  committed  them  to  record.  Some  men, 
otherwife  of  great  merit  among  ourfelves,  give  into  con- 
fined ideas  on  this  fubjeft.  Having  early  imbibed  their 
idea  of  exalted  manners  from  the  Greek  and  Roman  wri- 
ters, they  fcarcely  ever  afterwards  have  the  fortitude  to  al- 
low any  dignity  of  character  to  any  nation  deftitute  of  the 
ufe  of  letters. 

Without  derogating  from  the  fame  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  we  may  confider  antiquity  beyond  the  pale  of  their 
empire  worthy  of  fome  attention.  The  nobler  pafTions  of 
the  mind  never  ilioot  forth  more  free  and  unreftrained 
than  in  the  times  we  call  barbarous.  That  irregular  man- 
ner of  life,  and  thofe  manly  purfuits  from  which  barbarity 
takes  its  name,  are  highly  favourable  to  a  ftrength  of  mind 
unknown  in  poliilied  times.  In  advanced  fociety  the  cha- 
raders  of  men  are  more  uniform  and  difguifed.  The  hu- 
man paffions  lie  in  fome  degree  concealed  behind  forms, 
and  artificial  manners ;  and  the  powers  of  the  foul,  with- 
out an  opportunity  of  exerting  them,  lofe  vigour.  The 
times  of  regular  government,  and  polifhed  manners,  are 

therefore 


388      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

therefore  to  be  wifhed  for  by  the  feeble  and  weak  in  mind. 
An  unffettled  ftate,  and  thole  convulfions  which  attend  it, 
is  the  proper  neld  for  an  exalted  charader.,  and  the  exer- 
tion of  great  parts.  Merit,  there,  rifes  always  fuperior ; 
no  fortuitous  event  can  raife  the  timid  aild  mean  into  pow- 
er. To  thofe  who  look  upon  antiquity  in  this  li^ht,  it  is 
an  agreeable  profpect;  and  they  alone  can  have  real  plea- 
fure  in  tracing  nations  to  their  fource. 

The  eftabli&nient  of  the  Celtic  dates,  in  the  north  of 
Europe,  is  bevond  the  reach  of  written  annals.  The  tra- 
ditions and  fongs,  to  which  they  trufted  their  hiftory,  were 
loll,  or  altogether  corrupted^  in  their  revolutions  and  mi- 
grations ;  which  wer<i  :o  frequent  and  univerfal,  that  no 
kingdom  in  Europe  is  now  poifeired  by  its  original  inha- 
bitants. Societies  were  formed,  and  kingdoms  ereded, 
from  a  mixture  of  nations,  who,  in  procefs  of  time,  lofl 
al;  knowledge  of  their  own  oiigin.  If  tradition  could  be 
depended  upon,  it  is  only  among  a  people,  from  ail  time, 
free  from  intermixture  with  foreigners.  We  are  to  look 
for  thefe.  among  the  mountains  and  inacceffible  parts  of  a 
country:  places,  on  account  of  their  barrennefs,  uninviting 
to  an  enemy,  or  whofe  natural  (Ircngth  enabled  the  natives 
to  repel  invafions.  Such  are  the  inhabitants  of  the  moun- 
tains of  Scotland.  We,  accordingly,  find,  that  they  differ 
materially  from  thofe  who  poilefs  the  low  and  more  fertile 
part  of  the  kingdom.  Their  language  is  pure  and  original, 
and  their  manners  are  thofe  of  the  ancient  and  unmixed  race 
of  men,  Corifcious  of  thtir  own  antiquity,  they  long  def- 
pil'ed  tlic  others,  as  a  new  and  mixed  people.  As  they  lived 
in  a  country  only  fit  for  paflure,  they  were  free  from  that 
toil  and  buunefs,  which  engrofs  the  attention  of  a  commer- 
cial people,  Their  amufement  confided  in  hearing  or  re- 
peating their  fongs  and  traditions,  and  thefe  entirely  turned 
on  the  antiquity  of  their  nation,  and  the  exploits  of  their 
forefathers.  It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  there  are  more 
remains  of  antiquity  among  them,  than  among  any  other 
people  in  Europe.  Traditions,  however,  concerning  re- 
jnote  periods,  are  only  to  be  regarded.  In  fo  far  as  they 
coincide  with  cotemporary  writers  of  undoubted  credit  and 
veracity. 

No 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.'        389 

No  writers  began  their  accounts  from  a  more  early  pe- 
riod, than  the  hiftorians  of  the  Scots  nation.  Without 
records,  or  even  tradition  itfelf,  they  give  a  long  lift  of 
ancient  kings,  and  a  detail  of  their  tranfaftions,  with  a 
fcrupulous  exactnefs.  One  might  naturally  fuppofe,  that, 
when  they  had  no  authentic  annals,  they  Ihould,  at  leail, 
have  recourfe  to  the  traditions  of  their  country,  and  have 
reduced  them  into  a  regular  fyftem  of  hiilory.  Of  both 
they  feem  to  have  been  equally  deftitute.  Born  in  the  low 
country,  and  ftrangers  to  the  ancient  language  of  their 
nation,  they  contented  themfelves  with  copying  from  one 
another,  and  retaihng  the  fame  hdions,  in  a  new  colour 
and  drefs. 

John  Fordun  was  the  hrft  v/no  colieded  thofe  frag- 
ments of  the  Scots  hiftory,  which  had  efcaped  the  brutal 
policy  of  Edward  1.  and  reduced  them  into  order.  His 
accounts,  in  fo  far  as  they  concerned  recent  tranfaciions, 
deferved  credit :  beyond  a  certain  period,  they  were  fabu- 
lous and  unfatisfatlory.  Some  time  before  Fordun  wrote, 
the  king  of  England,  in  a  letter  to  the  pope,  had  run  up 
the  antiquity  of  his  nation  to  a  very  remote  ?era.  Fordun, 
poifefled  of  all  the  national  prejudice  of  the  age,  was  un- 
willing that  his  country  iliould  yield,  in  point  of  antiquity, 
to  a  people  then  its  rivals  and  enemies.  Deftitute  of  an- 
nals in  Scotland,  he  had  recourfe  to  Ireland,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  vulgar  errors  of  the  times,  was  reckoned 
the  firft  habitation  of  the  Scots.  He  found,  there,  that 
the  Irirti  bards  had  carried  their  pretenfions  to  antiquity  as 
high,  if  not  beyond  any  nation  in  Europe,  It  was  from 
them  he  took  thofe  improbable  fictions,  which  form  the 
firft  part  of  his  hiftory. 

The  writers  that  fucceed  Fordun  implicitly  followed  his 
fyftem,  though  they  fometimes  varied  from  him  in  their 
relations  of  particular  tranfaftions,  and  the  order  of  fuc- 
ceffion  of  their  kings.  As  they  had  no  new  liphts,  and 
were,  equally  with  him,  unacquainted  with  the  traditions 
of  their  country,  their  hiftories  contain  little  information 
concerning  the  origin  of  the  Scot,?.  Even  Buchannan 
himfelf,  except  the  elegance  and  vigour  of  his  ftile,  has 
very  little  to  recommend  him.  Blinded  with  political  pre- 
judices, 


390      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

judices,  he  feemed  more  anxious  to  turn  the  fictions  of 
his  predeceffors  to*  his  own  purpofes,  than  to  deteft  their 
mifreprefentations,  or  inveftigate  truth  amidft  the  darkneis 
which  they  had  thrown  round  it.  It  therefore  appears, 
that  little  can  be  colle£i:ed  from  their  ownhiftorians,  con- 
cerning the  firfl  migration  of  the  Scots  into  Britain. 

That  this  ifland  was  peopled  from  Gaul  admits  of  no 
doubt.  Whether  colonies  came  afterwards  from  the  north 
of  Europe  is  a  matter  of  mere  fpeculation.  When  South- 
Britain  yielded  to  the  power  of  the  Romans,  the  un- 
conquered  nations  to  the  north  of  the  province  were  dif- 
tinguiflied  by  the  name  of  Caledonians.  From  their  very 
name,  it  appears,  that  they  were  of  thofe  Gauls,  who  poflef- 
fed  themfelves  originally  of  Britain.  It  is  compounded. of 
two  Celtic  words,  Gael  fignifying  Celts j  or  Gauls,  and  Dun 
or  Don,  a  hill;  fo  that  Cael-don,  or  Caledonians,  is  as  much 
as  to  fay,  the  Celts  of  the  hill  country.  The  Highlanders, 
to  this  day,  call  themfelves  Gael,  their  language  Gaelic,  or 
Galic,  and  their  country  Caeldoch,  which  the  Romans  foft- 
ened., into  Caledonia.  This,  of  itfelf,  is  fuiHcient  to  demon- 
ftrate,  they  are  the  genuine  defcendents  of  the  ancient  Ca- 
ledonians, and  not  a  pretended  colony  of  Scots,  who  fet- 
tled firfl  in  the  north,  in  the  third  or  fourth  century. 

From  the  double  meaning  of  the  word  Gael,  which  fig- 
nifies  Jlrangers,  as  v/ell  as  Gauls,  or  Celts,  fome  have  ima- 
gined that  the  anceflors  of  the  Caledonians  were  of  a  dif- 
ferent race  from  the  reft  of  the  Britons,  and  that  they 
received  their  name  upon  that  account.  This  opinion,  fay 
they,  is  fupported  by  Tacitus,  who,  from  feveral  circum- 
ftances,  concludes,  that  the  Caledonians  were  of  German 
extradion.  A  difcuffion  of  a  point  fo  intricate,  at  this  dif- 
tance  of  time,  could  neither  be  fatisfaftory  nor  important. 

Towards  the  latter  end  of  the  third,  and  beginning  of 
tlie  fourth  century,  we  meet  with  the  Scots  in  the  north. 
Porphyrius  *  makes  the  firfl:  mention  of  them  about  that 
time.  As  the  Scots  were  not  heard  of  before  that  period, 
moll  writers  fuppofed  them  to  have  been  a  colony,  newly 
come  to  Britain,  and  that  the  Fi6ls  were  the  only  genuine 
defcendents  of  the  ancient  Caledonians.    This  miflake  is 

eafily 

*  St.  Illerorn.  ad  Ctcfiphon. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  391 

eafily  removed.  The  Caledonians,  in  procefs  of  time, 
became  naturally  divided  into  two  diftinft  nations,  as  pof- 
feffing  parts  of  the  country,  entirely  different  in  their  na- 
ture and  foil.  The  weftern  coafl  of  Scotland  is  hilly  and 
barren  ;  towards  the  eafl  the  country  is  plain,  and  fit  for 
tillage.  The  inhabitants  of  the  mountains,  a  roving  and 
uncontrouled  race  of  men,  lived  by  feeding  of  cattle,  and 
what  they  killed  in  hunting.  Their  employment  did  not 
iix  them  to  one  place.  They  removed  from  one  heath  to 
another,  as  fuited  bed  with  their  convenience  and  inclina- 
tion. They  were  not,  therefore,  improperly  called,  by 
their  neighbours,  Scuite,  or  the  wandering  nation;  which 
is  evidently  the  origin  of  the  Roman  name  of  Scoti. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Caledonians,  who  poiTeffed  the 
eafl  coafl  of  Scotland,  as  their  divifion  of  the  country  was 
plain  and  fertile,  applied  themfelves  to  agriculture,  and 
raifmg  of  corn.  It  was  from  this,  that  the  Galic  name  of 
the  Pids  proceeded;  for  they  are  called,  in  that  language, 
Cniithnichj  i.  e.  the  wheat  or  corn-eaters.  As  the  Pi£ls  lived 
in  a  country  fo  difl'erent  in  its  nature  from  that  pofTeffed  by 
the  Scots,  fo  their  national  character  fuffered  a  material 
change.  Unobftrufted  by  mountains,  or  lakes,  their  com- 
munication with  one  another  was  free  and  frequent.  So- 
ciety, therefore,  became  fooner  eftablifhed  among  them, 
than  among  the  Scots,  and  confequently,  they  were 
much  fooner  governed  bv  civil  magiflrates  and  laws. 
This,  at  lafl,  produced  fo  great  a  difference  in  the  manners 
of  the  two  nations,  that  they  began  to  forget  their  com- 
mon origin,  and  almofl  continual  quarrels  and  animofities 
fubfifled  between  them.  Thefe  animofities,  after  Ibme 
ages,  ended  in  the  fubverfion  of  the  Piftifh  kingdom,  but 
not  in  the  total  extirpation  of  the  nation,  according  to 
mofl  of  the  Scots  writers,  who  feemed  to  think  it  more 
for  the  honour  of  their  countrymen  to  annihilate,  than 
reduce  a  rival  people  under  their  obedience.  It  is  certain, 
however,  that  the  very  name  of  the  Pids  was  loft,  and 
thofe  that  remained  were  fo  completely  incorporated  with 
their  conquerors,  that  they  foon  lofl:  all  memory  of  their 
own  origin. 

The 


392     A  DISSERTATION  concerning    ' 

The  end  of  the  PI£li{h  government  is  placed  fo  near 
that  period,  to  which  authentic  annals  reach,  that  it  is 
matter  of  wonder,  that  we  have  no  monuments  of  their 
language  or  hiftory  remaining.  This  favours  the  fyftem 
I  have  laid  down.  Had  they  originally  been  of  a  differ- 
ent race  from  the  Scots,  their  language  of  courfe  would 
be  different.  The  contrary  is  the  cafe.  The  names  of 
places  in  the  Pidifh  dominions,  and  the  very  names  of 
their  kings,  which  are  handed  down  to  us,  are  of  Galic 
original,  which  is  a  convincing  proof,  that  the  two  nati- 
ons were,  of  old,  one  and  the  fame,  and  only  divided  into 
two  governments,  by  the  effeft  which  their  fituation  had 
upon  the  genius  of  the  people. 

The  name  of  Pids  is  laid  to  have  been  given  by  the  Ro- 
mans to  the  Caledonians,  who  poflefled  the  eafl  coaft  of 
Scotland,  from  their  painting  their  bodies.  The  (lory  is 
filly,  and  the  argument  abfurd.  But  let  us  revere  anti- 
quity in  her  very  follies.  This  circumftance  made  fome 
imagine,  that  the  Pitls  were  of  Britifh  extrad,  and  a  dif- 
ferent race  of  men  from  the  Scots.  That  more  of  the  Bri- 
tons, who  fled  northward  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Ro- 
mans, fettled  in  the  low  country  of  Scotland,  than  among 
the  Scots  of  the  mountains,  m.ay  be  eafily  imagined,  from 
the  very  nature  of  the  country.  It  was  they  who  introduced 
painting  among  the  Pifts.  From  this  circumltance,  affirm 
fome  antiquaries,  proceeded  the  name  of  the  latter,  to  dif- 
tinguiih  them  from  the  Scots,  who  never  had  that  art 
among  them,  and  from  the  Britons,  who  difcontinued  it 
after  the  Roman  conqueft. 

The  Caledonians,  mofl  certainly,  acquired  a  confider- 
able  knowledge  in  navigation,  by  their  living  on  a  coafl 
interfecled  v/ith  many  arms  ojF  the  fea,  and  in  iilands,  di- 
videdp  one  from  another,  by  wide  and  dangerous  lirths. 
It  is,  therefore,  highly  probable,  that  they,  very  early, 
found  rheir  way  to  the  north  of  Ireland,  which  is  within 
ri[;ht  of  their  own  country.  That  Ireland  was  firft  peopled 
from  Britain  is,  at  length,  a  matter  that  admits  of  no 
doubt.  The  vicinity  of  the  two  iilands  ;  the  exact  corref- 
pondence  of  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  both,  in  point  of 
manners  and  lan^.';uage,  are  fufficient  proofs,  even  if  wc 

had 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         393 

bad  not  the  teftimony  of  *  authors  of  undoubted  veracity 
to  confirm  it.  The  abettors  of  the  mofl  romantic  fyftems 
of  Irifh  antiquities  allow  it;  but  they  place  the  colony  from 
Britain  in  an  improbable  and  remote  sera.  I  Ihall  eafily 
admit,  that  the  colony  of  the  Firbclg,  confefledly  the  Btigce 
of  Britain,  fettled  in  the  fouth  of  Ireland,  before  the  Cael, 
or  Caledonians,  difcovered  the  north  :  but  it  is  not  at  all 
likely,  that  the  migration  of  the  Firbolg  to  Ireland  hap- 
pened many  centuries  before  the  Chriftian  sera. 

The  poem  of  Temora  throws  confiderable  light  on  this 
fubjeft.  The  accounts  given  in  it  agree  fo  well  with  what 
the  ancients  have  delivered,  concerning  the  firft  population, 
and  inhabitants  of  Ireland?  that  every  unbiafled  perfon 
will  confefs  them  more  probable,  than  the  legends  handed 
down,  by  tradition,  in  that  country.  It  appears,  that,  in. 
the  days  of  Trathal,  grandfather  to  Fingal,  Ireland  was  pof- 
felfed  by  two  nations  ;  the  Firbolg  or  BelgcE  of  Britain,  who 
inhabited  the  fouth,  and  the  Gael,  who  paifed  over  from. 
Caledonia  and  the  Hebrides  to  Uliler.  The  two  nations, 
as  is  ufual  among  an  unpoliflied  and  lately  fettled  people, 
were  divided  into  fmall  dynaflies,  fubjeft  to  petty  kings, 
or  chiefs,  independent  of  one  another.  In  this  fituation, 
it  is  probable,  they  continued  long,  without  any  material 
revolution  in  the  itate  of  the  iiland,  until  Crothar,  Lord 
of  Atha,  a  country  in  Connaught,  the  moil  potent  chief 
of  the  Firbolg,  carried  away  Conlama,  the  daughter  of 
Cathmin,  a  chief  of  the  Gael,  who  pofiefled  Ulller. 

Conlama  had  been  betrothed  fome  time  before  to  Tur«« 
loch,  a  chief  of  their  own  nation.  Turloch  refented  the 
affront  offered  him  by  Crothar,  made  an  irruption  into 
Connaught,  and  killed  Cormul,  the  brother  of  Crothar, 
v/ho  came  to  oppofe  his  progrefs.  Crothar  himfelf  then 
took  arms,  and  either  killed  or  expelled  Turloch.  1  he 
war,  upon  this,  became  general,  between  the  two  nations; 
and  the  Cael  were  reduced  to  the  laft  extremity.  In  this 
fituation,  they  applied,  for  aid,  to  Trathal  king  of  Morven, 
who  fent  his  brother  Conar,  already  famous  for  his  great 
exploits,  to  their  relief.  Conar,  upon  his  arrival  in  Ul- 
iler,  v/as  chofen  king,  by  the  unanimous  confent  of  the 

'  D  d  d  Cale- 

■■*  Dlod.  Sic.  1.  J.    ■ 


394      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

Caledonian  tribes,  v/ho  poffeiled  that  country.  The  war 
was  renewed  with  vigour  and  fuccels  ;  but  the  Firbolg  ap- 
pear to  have  been  rather  repelled  than  fubdued.  In  fuc- 
ceeding  reigns,  we  learn,  from  epilodes  in  the  fame  poem, 
that  the  chiefs  of  Atha  made  feveral  efforts  to  become  mo- 
narchs  of  Ireland,  and  to  expel  the  race  of  Conar. 

To  Conar  fuccecded  his  Ton  Cormac,  who  appears  to 
have  reigned  long.  In  his  latter  days  he  feems  to  have 
been  driven  to  the  laft  extremity,  by  an  infurreclion  of  the 
Firbolg,  who  fupported  the  pretenfions  of  the  chiefs  of  A- 
tha  to  the  Iriih  throne.  Fingal,  who  then  was  very  young, 
came  to  the  aid  of  Cormac,  totally  defeated  Colc-ulla, 
chief  of  Atha,  and  re-eflabliihed  Cormac  in  the  fole  pof- 
feiTion  of  all  Ireland.  It  was  then  he  fell  in  love  with,  and 
took  to  wife  Ros-crana,  the  daughter  of  Cormac,  who  was 
the  mother  of  Oifian. 

Cormac  was  fucceeded  in  the  Irilh  throne  by  his  fon, 
Cairbre  ;  Cairbre  by  Artho,  his  fon,  who  was  the  father 
of  that  Cormac,  in  whofe  minority  the  invafion  of  Swaran 
happened,  which  is  the  fubjecl  of  the  poem  of  Fingal.  The 
family  of  Atha,  who  had  not  relinquiflied  their  pretenfi- 
ons to  the  Irilli  throne,  rebelled  in  the  minority  of  Cor- 
mac, defeated  his  adherents,  and  murdered  him  in  the 
palace  of^  Tem.ora.  Cairbar,  lord  of  Atha,  upon  this, 
mounted  the  throne.  His  ufurpation  foon  ended  with  his 
life  ;  for  Fingal  made  an  expedition  into  Ireland,  and  re- 
flored,  after  various  vicifTitudes  of  fortune,  the  family  of 
Conar  to  the  poifeflion  of  the  kingdom.  This  war  is  the 
fubjeO:  of  Temora.  The  events,  though  certainly  height- 
ened and  cmbellilhed  by  poetry,  feem,  notvv-ithflanding, 
to  have  their  foundation  in  true  hiftcry. 

Temora  contains  not  only  the  hiilory  of  the  firft  mi- 
gration of  the  Caledonians  into  Ireland,  it  alfo  preferves 
fome  important  fads,  concerning  the  firfl;  fettlement  of 
the  Firbolg^  or  Belga  of  Britain,  m  that  kingdom,  under 
their  leader  Larthcn,  who  was  ancellor  to  Cairbar  and 
Cathmor,  Vv-ho  fucceifively  mounted  the  Irifh  throne,  after 
the  death  of  Cormac,  the  fon  of  Artho.  I  forbear  to 
tranfcribe  the  paffage,  on  account  of  its  length.  It  is  the 
fong  of  Fonar.  the  bard,  towards  the  latter  end   of  the 

feventh 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN. 


O^yC 


feventh  book  of  Temora.  As  the  generations  from  Lar- 
thon  to  Cathmor,  to  whom  the  epifode  is  addrelTec!,  are 
not  marked,  as  are  thofe  of  the  family  of  Conar,  the  firft 
king  of  Ireland,  we  can  form  no  judgment  of  the  time  of 
the  fettlement  of  the  Firbolg.  It  is,  however,  probable, 
it  was  fome  time  before  the  Gael,  or  Caledonians,  fettled 
in  Uliler.  One  important  fact  may  be  gathered  from  this 
hiltory,  that  the  Irifii  had  no  king  before  the  latter  end 
of  the  firft  century.  Fingal  lived,  it  is  fuppofed,  in  the 
third  century  ;  fo  Conar,  the  firft  monarch  of  the  Irifh, 
who  was  his  grand-uncle,  cannot  be  placed  farther  back 
than  the  clofe  of  the  firft.  To  eftablifli  this  fa6l,  is  to  lay, 
at  once,  afide  the  pretended  antiquities  of  the  Scots  and 
Irifii,  and  to  get  quit  of  the  long  lift  of  kings  which  the 
latter  Q;ive  us  for  a  millennium  before. 

Of  the  affairs  of  Scotland,  it  is  certain,  nothing  can  be 
depended  upon,  prior  to  the  reign  of  Fergus,  thefon  of 
Ere,  who  lived  in  the  fifth  century.  The  true  hiftory  of 
Ireland  begins  fomewhat  later  than  th:t  period.  Sir  James 
Ware*,  who  was  indefatigable  in  his  refearches  after  the 
antiquities  of  his  country,  rejeds,  as  mere  fiction  and 
idle  romance,  all  that  is  related  of  the  ancient  Irilh,  before 
the  time  of  St.  Patrick,  and  the  reign  of  Leogaire.  It  is 
from  this  confideration,  that  he  begins  his  hiftory  at  the 
introduction  of  Chriitianity,  remarking,  that  all  that  is 
delivered  down,  concerning  the  times  of  paganifm,  were 
tales  of  late  invention,  ftrangcly  mixed  with  anachron- 
ifms  and  inconfiftencies.  Such  being  the  opinion  of 
Ware,  who  had  collected,  with  uncommon  induftry  and 
zeal,  all  the  real  and  pretendedly  antient  manufcripts, 
concerning  the  hiftory  of  his  country,  we  mav,  on  his 
authority,  rejeft  the  improbable  and  felf-concemned  tales 
of  Keating  and  O'Flaherty.  Credulous  and  putrile  to  the 
laft  degree,  they  have  difgraced  the  antiquities  they  meant 
to  eftablifti.  It  is  to  be  wiftied,  that  fome  able  Irifliman, 
who  underftands  the  language  and  records  of  his  country, 
may  redeem,  ere  it  is  too  late,  the  genuine  antiquities  of 
Ireland,  from  the  hands  of  thefe  idle  fabulifts. 

By  comparing  the  hiftory  in  thefe  poems  v.ith  the  le- 
gends 

*■  Ware  de  antiq.  Hv'bern.  prae.  p.  l. 


396      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

gends  of  the  Scots  and  Irifh  writers ,  and,  by  afterwards 
examining  boch  by  the  teil  of  the  Roman  authors,  it  is 
eafy  to  diicover  which  is  the  mod  probable.  Probability 
is  all  that  can  be  eftablifhed  on  the  authority  of  tradition, 
ever  dubious  and  uncertain.  But  when  it  favours  the 
hypothefis  laid  down  by  cotemporary  writers  of  undoubt- 
ed veracity,  and,  as  it  were,  finifhes  the  figure  of  which 
they  only  drew  the  out-lines,  it  ought,  in  the  judgment 
of  Ibber  reafon,  to  be  preferred  to  accounts  framed  in 
dark  and  diflant  periods,  with  little  judgment,  and  upon 
no  authority. 

Concerning  the  period  of  more  than  a  century,  which 
intervenes  between  Fingal  and  the  reign  of  Fergus,  the  fon 
of  Ere  or  Arcath,  tradition  is  dark  and  contradictory. 
Some  trace  up  the  family  of  Fergus  to  a  fon  of  Fingal  of 
that  name,  who  makes  a  confiderable  ficjure  in  Offian's 
poems.  The  three  elder  fons  of  Fingal,  Offian,  Fil- 
lan,  and  Ryno,  dying  without  iffue,  the  fucceffion,  of 
courfe,  devolved  upon  Fergus,  the  fourth  fon,  and  his  pof- 
terity.  This  Fergus,  fay  fome  traditions,  was  the  father 
of  Congal,  whofe  fon  was  Arcath,  the  father  of  Fergus, 
properly  called  the  firft  king  of  Scots,  as  it  was  in  his  time 
the  Gael,  who  polfeffed  the  weftern  coafl  of  Scotland,  be- 
gan to  be  diftinguifhed,  by  foreigners,  by  the  name  of 
Scots.  From  thenceforward,  the  Scots  and  Pifts,  as  dif- 
tinft  nations,  became  objects  of  attention  to  the  hifhorians 
of  other  countries.  The  internal  ftate  of  the  two  Cale- 
donian kingdoms  has  always  continued,  and  ever  muft 
remain,  in  obfcurity  and  fable. 

It  is  in  this  epoch  we  mud  fix  the  beginning  of  the  de- 
cay of  that  fpecies  of  heroifin,  which  fubnfled  in  the  days 
of  Fingal.  There  are  three  ftages  in  human  fociety.  The 
firfl:  is  the  refult  of  confanguinity,  and  the  natural  affeftion 
of  the  members  of  a  family  to  one  another.  The  fecond 
begins  when  property  is  eflablifhed,  and  men  enter  into 
afTociations  for  mutual  defence,  againft  the  invafions  and 
injuilice  of  neighbours.  Mankind  fubmit,  in  the  third, 
to  certain  laws  and  fubordinations  of  government,  to 
which  they  truft  the  fafety  of  their  perfons  and  property. 
As  the  nrit  is  formed  on  nature,  fo,  cf  courfe,  it  is  the 

moft 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  S97 

nioft  difintereHied  and  noble.  Men,  in  the  lad,  have  Ici- 
fure  to  cultivate  the  mind,  and  to  reftore  it,  wiih  reflec- 
tion, to  a  primseval  dignity  of  fentiment.  The  middle 
ftate  is  the  region  of  complete  barbarifm  and  ignorance. 
About  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  the  Scots  and 
Picts  were  advanced  into  the  fecond  ifage,  and,  confe- 
quently,  into  thofe  circumfcribed  fentiments,  which  al- 
ways diftinguifh  barbarity.  The  events  which  foon  after 
happened  did  not  at  all  contribute  to  enlarge  their  ideas, 
or  mend  their  national  character. 

About  the  year  426,  the  Romans,  on  account  cf  do- 
meftic  comm.otions,  entirely  forfook  Britain,  iuiding  it  'm- 
poffible  to  defend  fo  didant  a  frontier.  The  Picls  and 
Scots,  feizing  this  favourable  opportunity,  made  incursi- 
ons into  the  deferted  province.  The  Britons,  dnervated 
by  the  flavery  of  feveral  centuries,  and  thoie  vices,  which 
are  infeparable  from  an  advanced  ilate  of  civility,  were 
not  able  to  withftand  the  impetuous,  though  irregular,  at- 
tacks of  a  barbarous  enemy.  In  the  utmod  djitrefs,  th^y 
applied  to  their  old  maders,  the  Romans,  and  (after  the 
unfortunate  date  of  the  Empire  could  not  fpare  aid)  to  the 
Saxons,  a  nation  equally  barbarous  and  brave,  Vvith  the 
enemies  of  v%^hom  they  were  fo  much  afraid.  Though  the 
bravery  of  the  Saxons  repelled  the  Caledonian  nations  for 
a  time,  yet  the  latter  found  means  to  extend  thcmfelves, 
confiderably,  towards  the  fouth.  It  is  in  this  period,  v/e 
mud  place  the  origin  of  the  arts  of  civil  life  among  the 
Scots.  The  feat  of  government  was  removed  from  the 
mountains  to  the  plain  and  more  fertile  provinces  of 
the  South,  to  be  near  the  common  enemy,  in  cafe  of  fud- 
den  incurfions.  Indead  of  roving  through  unfrequented 
wilds,  in  fearch  of  fubfidence,  by  means  of  hunting,  men 
applied  to  agriculture,  and  raifnig  of  corn.  This  manner 
of  life  was  the  drd  means  of  changing  the  national  cha- 
rader.  The  next  thing  which  contributed  to  it,  was  their 
mixture  with  drangers. 

In  the  countries  which  the  Scots  had  conquered  from 
the  Britons,  it  is  probable  the  mod  of  the  old  inhabitants 
remained.  Thefe  incorporating  with  the  conquerors, 
taught  them  agriculture,  and  other  arts,  which  they  them- 

felves 


398      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

felves  had  received  from  the  Romans.  The  Scots,  how- 
ever, in  number  as  well  as  power,  being  the  moil  predo- 
minant, retained  ftill  their  language,  and  as  many  of  the 
cuftoms  of  their  anceftors,  as  fuitsd  with  the  nature  of 
the  country  they  poffefled.  Even  the  union  of  the  two 
Caledonian  kingdoms  did  not  much  aifeft  the  national 
characler.  Being  originally  defcended  from  the  fame 
ilock,  the  manners  of  the  Picls  and  Scots  were  as  fimilar 
as  the  different  natures  of  the  countries  they  pofieiTed  per  ■» 
mitted. 

What  brought  about  a  total  change  in  the  genius  of 
the  Scots  nation,  was  their  wars,  and  other  tranfaftions, 
with  the  Saxons.  Several  counties  in  the  fouth  of  Scot- 
land were  alternately  poflefi'ed  by  the  two  nations.  They 
were  ceded,  in  the  ninth  age,  to  the  Scots,  and,  it  is  pro- 
bable, that  mofl  of  the  Saxon  inhabitants  remained  in  the 
pofleffion  of  their  lands.  During  the  feveral  conquefts  and 
revolutions  in  England,  many  fled,  for  refuge,  into  Scot- 
land, to  avoid  the  opprefllon  of  foreigners,  or  the  tyranny 
of  domeftic  ufurpers ;  in  fo  much,  that  the  Saxon  race 
formed  perhaps  near  one  half  of  the  Scottifli  kingdom. 
The  Saxon  manners  and  language  daily  gained  ground, 
on  the  tongue  and  cuftoms  of  the  ancient  Caledonians,  till, 
at  laft,  the  latter  were  entirely  relegated  to  inhabitants  of 
the  mountains,  who  were  flill  unmixed  with  ftrangers. 

It  was  after  the  acccfTion  of  territory  which  the  Scots 
received,  upon  the  retreat  of  the  Romans  from  Britain, 
that  the  inhabitants  of  the  Highlands  were  divided  into 
clans.  The  king,  when  he  kept  his  court  in  the  moun- 
tains, was  confidered,  by  the  whole  nation,  as  the  chief  of 
their  blood.  Their  fmall  number,  as  well  as  the  prefence 
of  their  prince,  prevented  thofe  divifions,  which,  after- 
wards, fprung  forth  into  fo  many  feparate  tribes.  When 
the  feat  of  government  was  removed  to  the  fouth,  thofe 
who  remained  in  the  Highlands  were,  of  courfe,  neglefted. 
They  naturally  formed  themfelves  into  fmall  focieties,  in- 
dependent of  one  another.  Each  fociety  had  its  own  ;r- 
giiius,  who  either  was,  or  in  the  fucceffion  of  a  few  gene- 
rations, was  regarded  as  chief  of  their  blood.  The  nature 
of  the  country  favoured  an  inilitution  of  this  fort.    A  tew 

valleys. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN. 


399 


tralieys,  divided  from  one  another  by  extenfive  heaths  and 
impalfable  mountains,  form  the  face  of  the  Highlands.  In 
thefe  valleys  the  chiefs  fixed  their  refidence.  Round  them, 
and  almofl  within  fight  of  their  dwellings,  were  the  habi- 
tations of  their  relations  and  dependents. 

The  feats  of  the  Highland  chiefs  were  neither  difagree- 
able  nor  inconvenient.  Surrounded  with  mountains  and 
hanging  woods,  they  were  covered  from  the  inclemency 
of  the  weather.  Near  them  generally  ran  a  pretty  large 
river,  which,  difcharging  itfelf  not  far  oif,  into  an  arm  of 
the  fea,  or  extenfive  lake,  fwarmed  with  variety  of  fifli. 
The  woods  were  ilocked  with  wild-fowl ;  and  the  heaths 
and  mountains  behind  them  were  the  natural  feat  of  the 
red  deer  and  roe.  If  we  make  allowance  for  the  backward 
ftate  of  agriculture,  the  valleys  were  not  unfertile  ;  afford- 
ing, if  not  all  the  conveniencies,  at  leafl:  the  neceffaries,  of 
life. .  Here  the  chief  lived,  the  fupreme  judge  and  law-giver 
of  his  own  people ;  but  his  fway  was  neither  fevere  nor 
unjuft.  As  the  populace  regarded  him  as  the  chief  of  their 
blood,  fo  he,  in  return,  confidered  them  as  members  of 
his  family.  His  commands,  therefore,  though  abfolute  and 
decifive,  partook  more  of  the  authority  of  a  father,  than 
of  the  rigour  of  a  judge.  Though  the  whole  territory  of 
the  tribe  was  confidered  as  the  property  of  the  chief,  yet 
his  vaffals  made  him  no  other  confideratian  for  their  lands 
than  fervices,  neither  burdenfome  nor  frequent.  As  he 
feldom  went  from  home,  he  was  at  no  expence.  His  ta- 
ble was  fupplied  by  his  own  herds,  and  what  his  nume- 
rous attendants  killed  in  hunting. 

In  this  rural  kind  of  magnificence,  the  Highland  chiefs 
lived,  for  many  ages.  At  a  diflance  from  the  feat  of  go- 
vernment, and  fecured,  by  the  inacceffiblenefs  of  their 
country,  they  were  free  and  independent.  As  they  had 
little  communication  with  flrangers,  the  cufloms  of  their 
anceilors  remained  among  them,  and  their  language  retain- 
ed its  original  purity.  Naturally  fond  of  military  fame,  and 
remarkably  attached  to  the  memory  of  their  anceftors,  they 
delighted  in  traditions  and  fongs,  concerning  the  exploits 
of  their  nation,  and  efpecially  of  their  own  particular  fa- 
milies.    A  fuccclTion  of  bards  v»as  retained  in  every  clan, 

to 


400     A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

to  hand  down  the  memorable  adlions  of  their  forefathers. 
As  Fingal  and  his  chiefs  were  the  moft  renowned  names  in 
tradition,  the  bards  took  care  to  place  them  in  the  genea- 
logy of  every  great  family.  They  became  famous  among 
the  people,  and  an  object  of  fidion  and  poetry  to  the 
bards. 

The  bards  erefted  their  immediate  patrons  into  heroes, 
and  celebrated  them  in  their  fongs.  As  the  circle  of  their 
knowledge  was  narrow,  their  ideas  were  confined  in  pro- 
portion. A  few  happy  exprellions,  and  the  manners  they 
rep^efent,  may  pleafe  thofe  who  underfland  the  language; 
their  o\ofcurity  and  inaccuracy  would  difguft  in  a  tranfla- 
tion.  It  was  chiefly  for  this  reafon,  that  I  have  rejefted 
wholiy  the  works  of  the  bards  in  my  publications.  Offian 
afted  in  a  more  extenfive  fphere,  and  his  ideas  ought  to 
be  more  noble  and  univerfai;  neither  gives  he,  I  prelume, 
fo  many  of  thofe  peculiarities,  which  are  only  underftood 
in  a  certain  period  or  country.  The  other  bards  have 
their  beauties,  but  pot  in  this  fpecies  of  compofition. 
Their  rhlmes,  only  calculated  to  kindle  a  martial  fpirit 
among  the  vulgar,  afford  very  little  pieafure  to  genuine 
tafle.  This  obfervation  only  regards  their  poems  of  the 
heroic-kind  ;  in  every  inferior  fpecies  of  poetry  they  are 
more  fuccefsful.  They  exprefs  the  tender  melancholy  of 
defponding  love,  with  fimplicity  and  nature.  So  well 
jidapted  are  the  founds  of  the  words  to  the  fentiments, 
that,  even  without  any  knowledge  of  the  language,  they 
pierce  and  dillblve  the  heart.  Succefsful  love  is  exprefled 
with  peculiar  tendernefs  and  elegance.  In  all  their  coni- 
poiitions,  except  the  heroic,  which  was  folely  calculated  to 
animate  the  vulgar,  they  give  us  the  genuine  language  of 
the  heart,  without  any  of  thofe  affected  ornaments  of 
phrafeology,  which,  though  intended  to  beautify  fenti- 
ments, divert  them  of  their  natural  force.  The  ideas,  it  is 
confeifed,  are  too  local,  to  be  admired,  in  another  lan- 
guage ;  to  thofe  who  are  acquainted  with  the  manners  they 
reprefent,  and  the  fcenes  they  defcribe,  they  mufl  afford 
pieafure  and  fatisfaftion. 

It  was  the  locality  of  their  defcription  and  fentlment, 
that,  probably,  has  kept  them  hitherto  in  the  obfcurity  of 

an 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  401 

an  almoft  loft  language.  The  Ideas  of  an  unpoliilied  pe~ 
yiod  are  fo  contrary  to  the  prefent  advanced  ftatc  of  foci- 
ety,  that  more  than  a  common  mediocrity  of  tafte  is  re- 
quired, to  relifh  them  as  they  deferve.  Thofe  who  alone 
are  capable  of  transferring  ancient  poetry  into  a  modem 
language,  might  be  better  employed  in  giving  originals  of 
their  own,  were  it  not  for  that  wretched  envy  and  mean- 
nefs  which  affeds  to  defpife  cotemporary  genius^  My  firfl 
publication  was  merely  accidental.  Had  I  then  met  with 
lefs  approbation,  my  after-purfuits  would  have  been  m.ore 
profitable ;  at  leaft  I  might  have  continued  to  be  ftupid^ 
without  being  branded  with  dulnefs. 

THhSE  poems  may  furnifh  light  to  antiquaries,  as  well 
as  fome  pleafure  to  the  lovers  of  poetry.  The  firft  popu- 
lation of  Ireland,  its  firft  kings,  and  feveral  circumftanccs, 
which  regards  its  connexion  of  old  v/ith  the  fouth  and 
north  of  Britain,  are  prefented  in  feveral  epifodes.  The 
fubjeft  and  cataftrophe  of  the  poem  are  founded  upon 
fafts,  which  regarded  the  firft  peopling  of  that  country, 
and  the  contefts  between  the  two  Britifii  nations,  who  ori- 
ginally inhabited  that  ifland.  In  a  preceding  part  of  this 
DilTertation,  I  have  Ihewn  how  fuperior  the  probability  of 
this  fyftem  is,  to  the  undigefted  fiftions  of  the  Irifh  bards, 
and  the  more  recent  and  regular  legends  of  both  Irilh  and 
Scottifli  hiftorians.  I  mean  not  to  give  offence  to  the  abet- 
tors of  the  high  antiquities  of  the  two  nations,  though  i 
have  all  along  exprefled  my  doubts,  concerning  the  vera- 
city and  abilities  of  thofe  who  deliver  down  their  antient 
hiftory.  For  my  own  part,  I  prefer  the  national  fame, 
arifmg  from  a  few  certain  fafts,  to  the  legendary  and  un- 
certain annals  of  ages  of  remote  and  obfcure  antiqult}'. 
No  kingdom  now  eftablifhed  in  Europe  can  pretend  to 
equal  antiquities  with  that  of  the  Scots,  inconf.derable  as 
it  may  appear  in  other  refpects,  even  according  to  my  fyf- 
tem, fo  that  it  is  altogether  needlefs  to  fix  its  origin  a  fic- 
titious millenium  before. 

Since  the  firft  publication  of  thefe  poems,  many  inftnu- 
ations  have  been  made,  and  doubts  arifen,  concerning 
their  authenticity.  Whether  thefe  fufpicions  are  fuggefted 
by  prejudice,  or  are  only  the  effeds  of  malice,  I  neither 

E  e  e  know 


402      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

know  nor  care.  Thofe  who  have  doubted  my  veracity 
have  paid  a  compliment  to  my  genius  ;  and  were  even  the 
allegation  true,  my  felf-denial  might  have  atoned  for  my 
fault.  Without  vanity  I  fay  it,  I  think  I  could  write  to- 
lerable poetry ;  and  I  afllire  my  antagonifts,  that  I  fhould 
not  tranfiate  what  I  could  not  imitate. 

As  prejudice  is  the  effeft  of  ignorance,  I  am  not  fur- 
prifed  at  its  being  general.  An  age,  that  produces  few 
marks  of  genius,  ought  to  be  fparing  of  admiration.  The 
truth  is,  the  bulk  of  mankind  have  ever  been  led  by  re- 
putation, more  than  tafte,  in  articles  of  literature.  If  all 
the  Romans,  who  admired  Virgil,  underftood  his  beauties, 
he  would  fcarce  have  deferved  to  come  down  to  us,  thro' 
fo  many  centuries.  Unlefs  genius  Vv^ere  in  fafliion.  Homer 
himfelf  might  have  written  in  vain.  He  that  wifhes  to 
come  with  weight,  on  the  fuperficial,  muft  fkim  the  fur- 
face,  in  their  own  fliallow  way.  Were  my  aim  to  gain 
the  many,  I  would  write  a  madrigal  fooner  than  an  heroic 
poem.  Laberius  himfelf  would  be  always  fure  of  more  fol- 
io v»^ers  than  Sophocles. 

SoTviE,  who  doubt  the  authenticity  of  this  work,  with 
peculiar  acutenefs  appropriate  them  to  the  Irifh  nation. 
Though  it  is  not  eafy  to  conceive  how  thefe  poems  can 
belong  to  Ireland  and  to  me,  at  once,  I  fhall  examine  the 
fubjeft,  without  further  animadverfion  on  the  blunder. 

Of  all  the  nations  defcended  from  the  ancient  Ce/fi;e,  the 
Scots  and  Irifli  are  the  mod  fimilar  in  language,  cufioms, 
and  manners.  This  argues  a  more  intimate  connection 
between  them,  than  a  remote  defcent  from  the  great  Celtic 
ilock.  It  is  evident,  in  fhort,  that  at  fome  one  period  or 
other,  they  formed  one  fociety,  were  fubjeft  to  the  fame 
government,  and  were,  in  all  refpecls,  one  and  the  fame 
people.  How  they  became  divided,  which  the  colony,  or 
which  the  mother  nation,  I  have  in  another  work  amply 
difcuifed.  The  firft  circumftance  that  induced  me  to  dif- 
regar/.  the  vulgarly-received  opinion  of  the  Hibernian  ex- 
traftion  of  the  Scottifh  nation,  was  my  obfervations  on 
their  ancient  language.  That  dialeft  of  the  Celtic  tongue, 
fpoken  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  is  much  more  pure,  more 
agreeable  to  its  mother  language,  and  more  abounding 

with 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  403 

with  primitives,  than  that  now  fpcken,  or  even  that  which 
has  been  written  for  fome  centuries  back,  amongft  the 
mofl  unmixed  part  of  the  Irlfli  nation.  A  Scotchman,  to- 
lerably converfant  in  his  own  language,  underftands  an 
Irifli  compofition,  from  that  derivative  analogy  which  it 
has  to  the  Galic  of  North  Britain.  An  Irifliman,  on  the 
other  hand,  without  the  aid  of  lludy,  can  never  underftand 
a  compofition  in  the  Galic  tongue.  This  affords  a  proof, 
that  the  Scotch  Galic  is  the  mod  original,  and,  confequent- 
ly,  the  language  of  a  more  ancient  and  unmixed  people. 
The  Irifli,  however  backward  they  may  be  to  allow  any 
thing  to  the  prejudice  of  their  antiquity,  feem  inadver- 
tently to  acknowledge  it,  by  the  very  appellation  they  give 
to  the  dialed  they  fpeak.  They  call  their  own  language 
Cae/ic  Eiri?iach,  i.  e.  Caledonian  JriJJj,  when,  on  the  contra- 
ry, they  call  the  dialeft  of  North-Britain  a  Cbaelic,  or  the 
Caledonian  tongue,  emphatically.  A  circumftance  of  this 
nature  tends  more  to  decide  which  is  the  moll  ancient  na- 
tion, than  the  united  teftimonies  of  a  whole  legion  of  ig- 
norant bards  and  fenachies,  who,  perhaps,  never  dream.ed 
of  bringing  the  Scots  from  Spain  to  Ireland,  till  fome  one 
of  them,  more  learned  than  the  reft,  difcovered,  that  the 
Romans  called  the  firft  Iberia,  and  the  latter  Hibcrnia.  On 
fuch  a  flight  foundation  were  probably  built  the  romantic 
fiftions,  concerning  the  Milefians  of  Ireland. 

From  internal  proofs  it  fufiiciently  appears  that  the 
poems  publifhed  under  the  name  of  Ollian,  are  not  of  Iriih 
compofition.  The  favourite  chimera,  that  Ireland  is  the 
mother-country  of  the  Scots,  is  totallv  fubverted  and  ruin- 
ed. The  fidions  concerning  the  antiquities  of  that  coun- 
try, which  v/ere  forming  for  ages,  and  growing  as  they 
came  down,  on  the  hands  of  {w(:cQ.{i\\Q  fenachies  ^mdijileas, 
are  found,  at  lall,  to  be  the  fpurious  brood  of  modern  and 
ignorant  ages.  To  thofe  who  know  how  tenacious  the 
Irifli  are,  of  their  pretended  Iberian  defcent,  this,  alone,  is 
proof  fufficient,  that  poems,  fo  fubvernve  of  their  fyilcm, 
could  never  be  produced  by  an  Hibernian  bard.  But  when 
we  look  to  the  language.  It  is  fo  different  from  the  Irifli 
dialect,  that  it  would  be  as  ridiculous  to  think,  that  T.Iil- 

ton's 


464      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

ton's  Paradife  Loft  could  be  wrote  by  a  Scottifii  peafant, 
as  to  fuppofe,  that  the  poems  afcribed  to  Offian  were  writ 
in  Ireland. 

The  pretenfions  of  Ireland  to  OlTian  proceed  from  ano- 
ther quarter.  There  are  handed  down,  in  that  country, 
traditional  poems,  concerning  the  Fiona,  or  the  heroes  of 
Ficn  Mac  ComnaL  This  Fion,  fay  the  Irifli  annalifts,  was 
general  of  the  militia  of  Ireland,  in  the  reign  of  Cormac, 
in  the  third  century.  Where  Keating  and  OTlaherty 
learned,  that  Ireland  had  an  embodied  militia  fo  early,  is 
not  eafy  for  me  to  determine.  Their  information  certainly 
did  not  come  from  the  Irifli  poems,  concerning  Fion.  I 
have  juu  now,  in  my  hands,  all  that  remain,  of  thofe  com-* 
pofitions ;  butj  unluckily  for  the  antiquities  of  Ireland, 
they  appear  to  be  the  work  of  a  very  modern  period.  Eve- 
ry ilanza,  nay  aimofi:  every  line,  affords  ftriking  proofs, 
that  they  cannot  be  three  centuries  old.  Their  allulions  to 
the  manners  and  cufloms  of  the  fifteenth  century,  are  fo 
many,  that  it  is  matter  of  wonder  to  me,  how  any  one  could 
dream  of  their  antiquity.  They  are  entirely  writ  in  that 
romantic  tafte  which  prevai'ed  two  ages  ago.  Giants,  en- 
chanted cailles,  dwarfs,  palfreys,  witches  and  magicians, 
form  the  circle  of  the  poet's  invention.  The  celebrated 
Fion  could  fcarcely  move  from  one  hillock  to  another, 
without  encountering  a  giant,  or  being  entangled  in  the 
circles  of  a  magician.  Witches,  on  broomfticks,  were 
contmually  hovering  round  him,  like  crows ;  and  he  had 
freed  enchanted  virgins  in  every  valley  in  Ireland.  In 
fhort,  Fion,  great  as  he  was,  pafTed  a  difagreeable  life. 
Not  only  had  he  to  engage  all  the  mifchiefs  in  his  own 
country,  foreign  armies  invaded  him,  affifted  by  magici- 
ans and  witcaes,  and  headed  by  kings,  as  tall  as  the  main- 
mafi:  of  a  firfl  rate.  It  rnufl  be  owned,  however,  that 
Fion  was  not  inferior  to  them  in  height. 

A  chos  air  Cromleach^  druim-ard, 
Chos  eile  air  Crom-meal  dubh, 
Thoga  Fion  le  larnh  m.hoir 
An  d'uifge  o  Liihhair  na  fruth. 

With 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.        405 

With  one  foot  on  Cromleach  his  brow. 
The  other  on  Crommal  the  dark, 
Fton  took  up  with  his  large  hand 
The  water  from  Lubar  of  the  dreams. 

Cromleach  and  Crommal  were  two  mountains  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  one  another,  in  Ulfler,  and  the  river  Lubar 
ran  through  the  intermediate  valley.  The  property  of 
fuch  a  monfter  as  this  Fion^  I  ftiould  never  have  dilputed 
with  any  nation.  But  the  bard  himfelf,  in  the  poem,  from 
which  the  above  (Quotation  is  taken,  cedes  him  to  Scotland. 

FioN  o  Albin,  fiol  nan  laoich ! 

FiON  from  Albion,  race  of  heroes  ! 

Were  it  allowable  to  contradift  the  authority  of  a  bard, 
at  this  diftance  of  time,  I  Ihould  have  given  as  my  opinion, 
that  this  enormous  Fion  was  of  the  race  of  the  Hibernian 
giants,  of  Ruanus,  or  fome  other  celebrated  name,  ra- 
ther than  a  native  of  Caledonia,  whofe  inhabitants,  now, 
at  leafl,  are  not  remarkable  for  their  ftaturc.  As  for  the 
poetry,  I  leave  it  to  the  reader. 

If  Fion  was  fo  remaikable  for  his  flature,  his  heroes  had 
alfo  other  extraordinary  properties.  In  weight  all  the  fons 
of  Jirangers  yielded  to  the  celebrated  Ton-iofal ;  and  for 
hardnefs  of  (kull,  and,  perhaps,  for  thicknefs  too,  the  va- 
liant Ofcar  flood  unrivalled  and  alone.  OfTian  himfelf  had 
many  fingular,  and  lefs  delicate,  qualifications,  than  play- 
ing on  the  harp ;  and  the  brave  Cuthullin  was  of  fo  dimi- 
nutive a  fize,  as  to  be  taken  for  a  child  of  two  years  of  age, 
by  the  gigantic  Swaran.  To  illuftrate  this  fubject,  I  fhall 
here  lay  before  the  reader,  the  hiftory  of  fome  of  the  Irifh 
poems,  concerning  Fion  Mac  Comnal.  A  tranflation  of 
thefe  pieces,  if  well  executed,  might  afford  fatisfadtion,  in 
an  uncommon  way,  to  the  Public.  But  this  ought  to  be 
the  work  of  a  native  of  Ireland.  To  draw  forth,  from  ob- 
fcurity,  the  poems  of  my  own  country,  has  wafted  all  the 
time  I  had  allotted  for  the  mufes ;  befides  I  am  too  diffi- 
dent of  my  own  abilities,  to  undertake  fuch  a  work.  A 
gentleman  in  Dublin  accufed  me  to  the  public,  of  com- 
mitting blunders  and  abfurdities,  in  tranflating  the  lan- 

^uasff 


4o6      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

guage  of  my  own  country,  and  that  before  any  tranflation 
of  mine  appeared  *.  How  the  gentleman  came  to  fee  my 
blunders  before  I  committed  them,  is  not  eafy  to  deter- 
mine ;  if  he  did  not  conclude,  that,  as  a  Scotfman,  and, 
of  courfe  defcended  of  the  Milefian  race,  I  might  have 
committed  fome  of  thofe  overfights,  which,  perhaps  very 
unjufUy,  are  faid  to  be  peculiar  to  them. 

From  the  whole  tenor,  of  the  Irifli  poems,  concerning 
the  Fiona,  it  appears,  that  Fion  Mac  Coninal  flourilhed  in 
the  reign  of  Cormac,  which  is  placed,  by  the  univerfal 
confent  of  the  fenachies,  in  the  third  century.  They  even 
fix  the  death  of  Fingal  in  the  year  286,  yet  his  fon  Offian 
is  made  cotemporary  with  St.  Patrick,  who  preached  the 
gofpel  in  Ireland  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth  age.  OfTian, 
though,  at  that  time,  he  muft  have  been  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  of  age,  had  a  daughter  young  enough  to  be- 
come wife  to  the  faint.  On  account  of  this  family  connect 
tion,  Patrick  of  the  Pfalms,  for  fo  the  apoftle  of  Ireland  is 
emphatically  called  in  the  poems,  took  great  delight  in  the 
company  of  Offian,  and  in  hearing  the  great  aftions  of  hi& 
family.  The  faint  fometimes  threw  off  the  aufterity  of  his 
profefTion,  drunk  freely,  and  had  his  foul  properly  warmed 
with  wine,  to  receive,  with  becoming  enthufiafm,  the 
poems  of  his  father-in-law.  One  of  the  poems  begins 
Avith  this  piece  of  ufeful  information. 

Lo  don  rabh  Padric  na  mhur. 
Gun  Sailm  air  uidh,'  ach  a  gol, 
Ghluais  e  thigh  Offian  mhic  Fhiony 
O  fan  leis  bu  bhinn  a  ghloir. 

The 

*  In  Faulkner's  Dublin  Journal,  of  the  ifl  December,  lj6l,  appeared  the  follow- 
ing Advertifement;  two  weeks  before  my  firft  publication  appeared  in  London. 

'•  Speedily  will  be  publidied,  by  a  gentleman  of  this  kingdom,  who  hath  been, 
for  i'uaie  time  pail,  employed  in  tranflating  and  writing  hiftorical  Notes  to 

F     I     N     G     A     L,     A    Poem, 

OriginLiHy  wrote  in  the  Irifli  or  Erfe  lan<;uage.  In  the  preface  to  which,  the 
tiaidlator,'  who  isaperfe£t  maflcr  of  the  Irifh  tongue,  will  give  an  account  of  the 
manners  and  cuOomsof  the  ancient  Lifh  or  Scotch  ;  and,  therefore,  molf  humbly 
intreats  the  public.  lO  wait  for  his  edition,  which  will  appear  in  a  (hort  time,  as  he 
will  IVt  forth  all  the  blunders  and  abfu  ditics  m  the  edition  now  printing  in  Lon- 
don, andihew  the  ignorance  of  the  Engliih  tranflaior,  in  his  knov.'lcdge  of  IriOj 
c^rammar,  not  underflanding  any  part  of  that  accidence." 


.   THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  407 

The  title  of  this  poem  is  Teantach  mor  na  Fiona.  It  ap- 
pears to  have  been  founded  on  the  fame  ftory  with  the  bat- 
tle of  Lora.  The  circumflances  and  cataflrophe  in  both 
are  much  the  fame ;  but  the  IriJJj  Offian  difcovers  the  age 
in  which  he  lived,  by  an  unlucky  anachronifm.  After 
defcribing  the  total  rout  of  Erragon,  he  very  gravely  con- 
cludes with  this  remarkable  anecdote,  that  none  of  the  foe 
efcaped,  but  a  fev/,  who  vv^ere  permitted  to  go  on  a  pilgri- 
mage to  the  Holy  Land.  This  circumftance  fixes  the  date 
of  the  compofition  of  the  piece  fome  centuries  after  the 
famous  croifade ;  for,  it  is  evident,  that  the  poet  thought 
the  time  of  the  croifade  fo  ancient,  that  he  confounds  it 
with  the  age  of  Fingal.  Erragon,  in  the  courfe  of  this 
poem,  is  often  called, 

Riogh  Lochlin  an  do  fnloigh. 
King  of  Den?nark  of  two  nations^ 

which  alludes  to  the  union  of  the  kingdoms  of  Norway  and 
Denmark,  a  circumftance  which  happened  under  Marga- 
ret de  Waldemar,  in  the  clofe  of  the  fourteenth  age.  Mo- 
dern, however,  as  this  pretended  Ofiian  was,  it  is  certain, 
he  lived  before  the  Iriflr  had  dreamed  of  appropriating  Fi- 
en,  or  Fingal,  to  themfelves.  EIc  concludes  the  poem, 
with  this  reflection, 

Na  fagha  fe  comhthrom  nan  n'  arm, 
Erragon  Mac  Annir  nan  lann  glas 
.^San  n'  Albin  ni  n'  abairtair  Triath 
Agus  ghlaoite  an  n'  Fhiona  as. 

^'  Elad  Erragon,  fon  of  Annir  of  gleaming  fwords,  avoid- 
ed the  equal  conteft  of  arms  (fmgle  combat),  no  chief 
fhould  have  afterwards  been  numbered  in  Albion,  and 
the  heroes  of  Fion  fhould  no  more  be  named." 

The  next  poem  that  falls  under  our  cbfervation  is 
Cath-cabbra,  or  The  death  of  Ofcar.  This  piece  is  found- 
ed on  the  fame  ftory  which  we  have  in  the  firft  book  of 
Temora.  So  little  thought  the  author  of  Cath-cabhi  a  of 
making  Ofcar  his  countryman,  that,  in  the  courfe  of  two 
hundred  lines,  of  which  the  poem  confifts,  he  puts  the 
following  expreflion  thrice  in  the  mouth  of  the  hero  : 

Albin- 


4o8     A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

Albin,  an  fa  d'  roina  m'  arach.— , 

Albion,  luhere  I  was  born  and  bred. 

The  poem  contains  almofl  all  the  incidents  in  the  firft 
book  of  Temora.  In  one  circumftance  the  bard  differs 
materially  from  Ofllan.  Ofcar,  after  he  was  mortally- 
wounded  by  Cairbar,  was  carried  by  his  people  to  a  neigh- 
bouring hill,  which  commanded  a  profpe6t  of  the  fea. 
A  fleet  appeared  at  a  diftance,  and  the  hero  exclaimSj 
■with  joy, 

Loingeas  mo  fliean-athair  at  an 
'S  iad  a  tlachd  le  cabhair  chugaipj^ 
O  Albin  na  n'  ioma  ftuagh. 

*'  It  is  the  fleet  of  my  grandfather,  coming  with  aid  to 

our  field,  from  Albion  of  many  waves." The  tefl:i- 

mony  of  this  bard  is  fuflicient  to  confute  the  idle  fidions 
of  Keating  and  O'Flaherty  ;  for,  though  he  is  far  from 
being  ancient,  it  is  probable  he  flourifhed  a  full  century 
before  thefe  hillorians.  He  appears,  however,  to  have 
been  a  much  better  chrillian  than  cnronologer  ;  for  Fion, 
though  he  is  placed  two  centuries  before  St.  Patrick,  very 
devoutly  recommends  the  foul  of  his  grandfon  to  his  Re- 
deemer. 

Duan  a  Garihb  Mac-Starn  is  another  Irifh  poem  in  high 
repute.  The  grandeur  of  its  images,  and  its  propriety  of 
fentiment,  might  have  induced  me  to  give  a  translation  of 
it,  had  not  I  had  fome  expeftations,  which  are  now  over, 
of  feeing  it  in  the  colle61ion  of  the  Irifli  OfTian's  poems, 
promifed  twelve  years  fince,  to  the  public.  The  author 
defcends  fometimes  from  the  region  of  the  fublime  to  low 
and  indecent  defcription  ;  the  laft:  of  which,  the  Iriflitran- 
llator,  no  doubt,  will  choofe  to  leave  in  the  obfcurity  of 
the  original.  In  this  piece,  Cuthullin  is  ufed  with  very 
little  ceremony,  for  he  is  oft  called  the  dog  of  Tara^  in 
the  county  of  Meath.  This  fevere  title  of  the  redoubtable 
Cuthullin,  \\iQ  moil  renowned  of  Irifli  champions,  proceed- 
ed from  the  poet's  ignorance  of  etymology.  Cu,  voice,  or 
commander,  fignifies  alfo  a  dog.  The  poet  chofe  the  lad, 
as  the  mofl:  noble  appellation  for  his  hero. 

The 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         409 

The  fubject  of  the  poem  is  the  fame  with  that  of  the 
epic  poem  of  Fingal.  Caribb  Mac-Starn  is  the  fame  with 
OlTian's  Swaran,  the  fon  of  Starno.  His  fmgle  combats 
with,  and  his  vidory  over  all  the  heroes  of  Ireland,  ex- 
cepting the  celebrated  dog  of  Tara,  i.  e.  CuthuUin,  afford 
matter  for  two  hundred  lines  of  tolerable  poetry.  Caribb' s 
progrefs  in  fearch  of  CuthuUin,  and  his  intrigue  with  the 
gigantic  Emir-bragal,  that  hero's  wife,  enables  the  poet 
to  extend  his  piece  to  four  hundred  lines.  This  author, 
it  is  true,  makes  CuthuUin  a  native  of  Ireland  ;  the  o-i- 
gantic  Emir-bragal  he  calls  tbe  guiding  Jlar  of  the  ivomen  of 
Ireland.  The  property  of  this  enormous  lady  I  fhall  not 
difpute  with  him,  or  any  other.  But  as  he  fpeaks  with 
great  tendernefs  of  the  daughters  of  the  convent,  and  throv/s 
out  fome  hints  againfl  the  Englilh  nation,  it  is  probable 
he  lived  In  too  modern  a  period  to  be  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  the  genealogy  of  CuthuUin. 

Another  Irifh  Offian,  for  there  were  many,  as  appears 
from  their  difference  in  language  and  fentiment,  fpeaks 
very  dogmatically  of  Fion  Mac  Comnal,  as  an  Irifhman. 
Little  can  be  faid  for  the  judgment  of  this  poet,  and  lef'? 
for  his  delicacy  of  fentiment.  The  hiftory  of  one  of  his 
epifodes  may,  at  once,  (land  as  a  fpecimen  of  his  want  of 
both.  Ireland,  in  the  days  of  Fion,  happened  to  be  threa- 
tened with  an  invafion,  by  three  great  potentates,  the  kings 
of  Lochlin,  Sweden,  and  France.  It  is  needlefs  to  infift 
upon  the  impropriety  of  a  French  invafion  of  Ireland  ;  it 
is  fufficient  for  me  to  be  faithful  to  the  language  of  mv 
author.  Fion,  upon  receiving  intelligence  of  the  intended 
invafion,  fent  Ca-olt,  Ollian,  and  Ofcar,  to  watch  the  bay, 
in  which,  it  was  apprehended,  the  enemy  was  to  land. 
Ofcar  was  the  word  choice  of  a  fcout  that  could  be  made, 
for,  brave  as  he  was,  he  had  the  bad  property  of  falling 
very  often  afleep  on  his  poft,  nor  was  it  poffibie  to  awake 
him,  without  cutting  off  one  of  his  lingers,  or  dalhing  a 
large  flone  againfl  his  head.  When  the  enemy  appeared, 
Ofcar,  very  unfortunately,  was  afleep.  Offian  and  Ca-olc 
confulted  about  the  method  of  wakening  him,  and  they, 
at  lafl,  fixed  on  the  ftone,  as  the  lefs  dangerous  expedient. 

F  f  f  Gun 


410     A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

Gun  thog  Caoike  a  clach,  nach  gan, 
Aq-us  a  n'  aighai'  chiean  gun  bhuail ; 
Tri  mil  an  tuiioch  gun  chri',  &c. 

"  Ca-olt  took  up  a  heavy  ftone,  and  (truck  it  againft  the 
hero's  head.  The  hill  fliook  for  three  miles,  as  the  ftone 
rebounded  and  rolled  away."  Ofcar  rofe  in  wrath,  and 
his  father  gravely  defired  him  to  fpend  his  rage  on  his 
enemies,  which  he  did  to  fo  good  purpofe,  that  he  fingly 
routed  a  whole  wing  of  their  army.  The  confederate 
kings  advanced,  notwithftanding,  till  they  came  to*  a  nar- 
row pafs,  pofieiTed  by  the  celebrated  Ton-iofal.  This 
name  is  very  fignilicant  of  the  fmgular  property  of  the  he- 
ro Vv'ho  bore  it.  Ton-iofal,  though  brave,  was  fo  heavy 
and  unwieldy,  that  when  he  fat  down,  it  took  the  whole 
force  of  an  hundred  men  to  fet  him  upright  on  his  feet 
again.  Luckily  for  the  prefervation  of  Ireland,  the  hero 
happened  to  be  Handing  when  the  enemy  appeared,  and 
he  gave  fo  good  an  account  of  them,  that  Fion,  upon  his 
arrival,  found  little  to  do,  but  to  divide  the  fpoil  among 
his  foldiers. 

All  thefe  extraordinary  heroes,  Fion,  Offian,  Ofcar, 
and  Ca-olt,  fays  the  poet,  were 

Siol  Erin  na  gorm  lann. 

The  fons  of  Y.ki'n  cf  bluejleel. 

Neither  (hall  I  much  difpute  the  matter  with  him  :  He 
has  my  confent  alfo  to  appropriate  to  Ireland  the  celebrat- 
ed Ton-iofal.  I  ihall  only  fay,  that  they  are  different  per- 
fons  from  thofe  of  the  fame  name,  in  the  Scotch  poems ; 
and  that,  though  the  fcupendous  valour  of  the  firfl  is  fo 
remarkable,  they  have  not  been  equally  lucky  v/ith  the 
latter,  in  their  poet.  It  is  fomev/hat  extraordinary,  that 
Fion,  v/ho  lived  feme  ages  before  St.  Patrick,  fwears  like 
a  very  good  chriftian  : 

Air  an  Dia  do  chum  gach  cafe. 
By  God,  zvho  fhaped  every  cafe. 

It  is  worthy  cf  being  remarked,  that,  in  the  line  quoted, 
Offian,  who  lived  in  St.  Patrick's  days,  feems  to  have  un- 

derftood 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.'        411 

derftood  fomething  of  the  Englifli,  a  language  not  then 
fubfifting.  A  perfon,  more  fanguine  for  the  honour  of 
his  country  than  I  am,  might  argue,  that  this  pretendedly 
Irifh  0\Tian  was  a  native  of  Scotland  ;  for  my  country- 
men are  univerfaliy  allowed  to  have  an  exclufive  rip-ht  to 
the  fecond-fight. 

From  the  inllances  given,  the  reader  may  form  a  com- 
plete idea  of  the  Irifli  compofitions  concerning  the  Fiona, 
The  greatefl  part  of  them  make  the  heroes  of  Fion, 

Siol  Albin  a  n'nioma  caoile. 

The  race  of  Albion  of  many  frihs. 

The  reft  make  them  natives  of  Ireland.  But,  the  truth  is, 
that  their  authority  is  of  little  confequence  on  either  fide. 
From  the  inftances  I  have  given,  they  appear  to  have  been 
the  work  of  a  very  modern  period.  The  pious  ejaculati- 
ons they  contain,  their  allufions  to  the  manners  of  the 
times,  fix  them  to  the  fifteenth  century.  Had  even  the 
authors  of  thefe  pieces  avoided  all  allufions  to  their  own 
times,  it  is  impoifible  that  the  poems  could  pafs  for 
ancient,  in  the  eyes  of  any  perfon  tolerably  converfant 
with  the  Irifh  tongue.  The  idiom  is  fo  corrupted,  and  fo 
many  words  borrowed  from  the  Englifli,  that  the  language 
muft  have  made  confiderable  progrei's  in  Ireland  before 
the  poems  were  written. 

It  remains  nov/  to  (liew,  hov/  the  Irifii  bards  began  to 
appropriate  the  Scottifli  Ofiian  and  his  heroec  to  their  own 
country.  After  the  Englifli  conqueft,  many  of  th'e  natives 
of  Ireland,  averfe  to  a  fiireign  yoke,  either  adually  were  in 
a  flate  of  hoftiliLy  with  the  conquerors,  or  at  leaft,  paid 
little  regard  to  their  government.  The  Scots,  in  thofe  ages, 
were  often  in  open  v/ar,  and  never  in  cordial  friendihip 
with  the  Englid-i.  The  fimilarity  of  manners  and  lan- 
guage, the  traditions  concerning  their  common  origin,  and 
above  all,  their  having  to  do  with  the  fame  enemy,  creat- 
ed a  free  and  friendly  intercourfe  becween  the  Scottifli  and 
Irifh  nations.  As  the  cuifom  of  retaining  bards  and  fena- 
chies  was  common  to  both  ;  fo  each,  no  doubt,  had  form- 
ed a  fyfteni  of  hifiiory,  it  matters  not  how  muchfoever  fa- 
bulous, concerning-  their  refpe»5tive  origin.  It  was  the  na- 
tural 


412      A  DISSERTATION  concerning 

tural  policy  of  the  times,  to  reconcile  the  traditions  of 
both  nations  together,  and,  if  poffibie,  to  deduce  them 
from  the  fam.e  original  (Lock. 

The  Saxon  manners  and  language  had,  at  that  time, 
made  great  progrefs  in  the  fouth  of  Scotland.  The  ancient 
language,  and  the  traditional  hiflory  of  the  nation,  became 
confined  entirely  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  Highlands,  then 
fallen,  from  feveral  concurring  circumftances,  into  the 
lad  degree  of  ignorance  and  barbarifm.  The  Irifli,  who, 
for  fome  ages  before  the  conqueft,  had  poifefled  a  compe- 
tent Iharc  of  that  kind  of  learning,  which  then  prevailed 
in  Europe,  found  it  no  difficult  matter  to  impofe  their  own 
fiftions  on  the  ignorant  Highland  fenachies.  By  flattering 
the  vanity  of  the  Highlanders,  with  their  long  lift  of  He- 
remonian  kings  and  heroes,  they,  without  contradiftion, 
affumed  to  themfelves  the  character  of  being  the  mother- 
nation  of  the  Scots  of  Britain.  At  this  time,  certainly,  was 
eftablifhed  that  Hibernian  fyftem  of  the  original  of  the 
Scots, ,  which  afterwards,  for  want  of  any  other,  was  uni- 
verfally  received.  The  Scots  of  the  low-country,  who,  by 
lofmg  the  language  of  their  anceftors,  loft,  together  with 
it,  their  national  traditions,  received,  implicitly,  the  hif- 
tory  of  their  country,  from  Irifli  refugees,  or  from  High- 
land fenachies,  perfuaded  over  into  the  Hibernian  fyftem. 

These  circumftances  are  far  from  being  ideal.  We 
liavc,  remaining,  many  particular  tiaditions,  which  bear 
teftimony  to  a  fad:,  of  itfelf  abundantly  probable.  What 
makes  the  matter  inconteftible  is,  that  the  ancient  traditi- 
onal accounts  of  the  genuine  origin  of  the  Scots,  have 
been  handed  dovvn  without  interruption.  Though  a  few 
ignorant  fenachies  might  be  perfuaded  out  of  their  own 
opinion,  by  the  fmoothnefs  of  an  Irifli  tale,  it  was  impof- 
fible  to  eradicate,  from  among  the  bulk  of  the  people, 
their  own  national  traditions,  i'hefe  traditions  afterwards 
fo  much  prevailed,  that  the  Highlanders  continue  totally 
unacquainted  with  the  pretended  Hibernian  extract  of  the 
Scots  nation.  Ignorant  chronicle  writers,  ftrangers  to  the 
ancient  language  *of  their  country,  preferved  only  from 
falling  to  the  ground^  fo  improbable  a  ftory. 

This 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  413 

This  fubjeft,  perhaps,  is  purfued  further  than  It  de- 
ferves  ;  but  a  difcuflion  of  the  pretenfions  of  Ireland,  was 
become  in  fome  meafure  neceffary.  If  the  Irifh  poems, 
concerning  the  Fiona^  fhould  appear  ridiculous,  it  is  but 
juftice  to  obferve,  that  they  are  fcarcely  more  fo,  than  the 
poems  of  other  nations,  at  that  period.  On  other  fubjefts, 
the  bards  of  Ireland  have  difplayed  a  genius  for  poetry. 
It  was,  alone,  in  matters  of  antiquity,  that  they  were  mon- 
flrous  in  their  fables.  Their  love-fonnets,  and  their  ele- 
gies on  the  death  of  perfons  worthy  or  renowned,  abound 
with  fimplicity,  and  a  wild  harmony  of  numbers.  They 
become  more  than  an  atonement  for  their  errors,  in  every 
other  fpecies  of  poetry.  But  the  beauty  of  thefe  pieces, 
depends  fo  much  on  a  certain  ciiriofa  felicitas  of  expreffjon, 
in  the  original,  that  they  mull  appear  much  to  difadvant- 
age  in  another  language. 


A    CRITICAL 


DISSERTATION 


O  N     T  H  E 


POEMS  OF  OSSIAN, 


T  JiE 


SON     OF    FINGAL. 


By     HUGH      B   L    A   I    R,    D.  D. 

•  NE   OF     THE    MINISTERS    OP     THE    HIGH    CHURCH,    AND    PROFESSOR    OF    RHET»" 
mcr   ANP    BILLES-LETTERSj  IN   THE   UNIVERSITY  OF    EDINBURGH. 


A    CRITICAL 

DISSERTATION 

ON      THE 

POEMS    OF    OSSIAN, 

THE 

SON     OF     FINGAL. 


AMONG  the  monuments  remaining  of  the  ancient 
ftate  of  nations,  few  are  more  valuable  than  their 
poems  or  fongs.  Hiftory,  when  it  treats  of  remote  and 
dark  ages,  is  feldom  very  initru6tive.  The  beginnings 
of  fociety,  in  every  country,  are  involved  in  fabulous 
confufion  ;  and  though  they  were  not,  they  would  fur- 
nifh  few  events  worth  recording.  But,  in  every  period 
of  fociety,  human  manners  are  a  curious  fpectacle  ;  and 
the  mofl  natural  pi£tures  of  ancient  manners  are  exhibit- 
ed in  the  ancient  poems  of  nations.  Thefe  prefent  to 
us,  what  is  much  more  valuable  than  the  hiftory  of  fucli 
tranfadions  as  a  rude  age  can  afford,  The  hiftory  of  hu- 
man imagination  and  paffion.  They  make  us  acquainted 
with  the  notions  and  feelings  of  our  fellow-creatures  in 
the  mod  artlefs  ages  ;  difcovering  what  objects  they  ad- 
mired, and  what  pleafures  they  purfued,  before  thole  re- 
finements of  fociety  had  taken  place,  w^hich  enlarge  in- 
deed, and  diverfify  the  tranfatlions,  but  difguife  the  man- 
ners of  mankind. 

Besides  this  merit,  which  ancient  poems  have  with 
philofophical  obfervers  of  human  nature,  they  have  an- 
other with  perfons  of  tafle.  They  promife  fome  of  the 
higheft  beauties  of  poetical  writing.  "  Irregular  and  un- 
polifhed  we  may  expect  the  productions  of  uncultivated 
ages  to  be  j  but  abounding,  at  the  fame  time,  with  that 

G  g  g  enthu- 


4i8     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

cnthiifiafm,  that  vehemence  and  fire,  which  are  the  foul 
of  poetry  :  For  many  circumftances  of  thofe  times  which 
we  call  barbarous,  are  favourable  to  the  poetical  fpirit. 
That  ftate,  in  which  human  nature  fhoots  wild  and  free, 
though  unfit  for  other  improvements,  certainly  encou- 
rages the  high  exertions  of  fancy  and  paflion. 

In  the  infancy  of  focieties,  men  live  fcattered  and  dif- 
perfed,  in  the  midft  of  folitary  rural  fcenes,  where  the 
beauties  of  nature  are  their  chief  entertainment.  They 
meet  with  many  objefts,  to  them  new  and  ftrange  ;  their 
wonder  and  furprize  are  frequently  excited  ;  and,  by  the 
fudden  changes  of  fortune  occurring  in  their  unfettled 
ftate  of  life,  their  pafiions  are  raifed  to  the  utmoft  :  their 
palTions  have  nothing  to  rellrain  them,  their  imagination 
has  nothing  to  check  it.  They  difplay  themfelves  to  one 
another  without  difguife ;  and  converfe  and  aft  in  the 
uncovered  fnnplicity  of  nature.  As  their  feelings  are 
ftrong,  fo  their  language,  of  itfelf,  alTumes  a  poetical  turn. 
Prone  to  exaggerate,  they  defcribe  every  thing  in  the 
flrongeft  colours  ;  which  of  courfe  renders  their  fpeech 
pifturefque  and  figurative.  Figurative  language  owes  its 
rife  chiefly  to  two  caufes  ;  to  the  want  of  proper  names 
for  objects,  and  to  the  influence  of  imagination  and  paf- 
fion  over  the  form  of  expreflion.  Both  thefc  caufes  con- 
cur in  the  infancy  of  focicty.  Figures  are  commonly  con- 
fidered  as  artificial  modes  of  fpeech,  devifed  by  orators 
and  poets,  after  the  world  had  advanced  to  a  refined  flate. 
The  contrary  of  this  is  the  truth.  Men  never  have  ufed 
fo  many  figures  of  flyle,  as  in  thofe  rude  ages,  when, 
befides  the  power  of  a  warm  imagination  to  fuggefl  lively 
images,  the  want  of  proper  and  precife  terms  for  the  ideas 
they  would  exprefs,  obliged  them  to  have  recourfe  to  cir- 
cumlocution, metaphor,  comparifon,  and  all  thofe  fubili- 
tuted  forms  of  expreflion,  which  give  a  poetical  air  to 
language.  An  American  chief,  at  this  day,  harangues  at 
the  head  of  his  tribe,  in  a  more  bold  metaphorical  ftyle, 
than  a  modern  European  would  adventure  to  ufe  in  an 
epic  poem. 

In  the  progrefs  of  fociety,  the  genius  and  manners  of 
men  imdergo  a  change  more  favourable  to  accuracy  than 

■    to 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         419 

to  fprightlinefs  and  fublimity.  As  the  world  advances, 
the  underitanding  gains  ground  upon  the  imagination  : 
the  underilanding  is  more  exercifed  ;  the  imagination, 
lefs.  Fewer  objeds  occur  that  are  new  or  (Iriking.  Men 
apply  themfelves  to  trace  the  caufes  of  things  ;  they  cor- 
rect and  refine  one  another  ;  they  fubdue  or  difguife  their 
pafTions  ;  they  form  their  exterior  manners  upon  one  uni- 
form flandard  of  politenefs  and  civility.  Human  nature  is 
pruned  according  to  method  and  rule.  Language  ad- 
vances from  fterility  to  copioufnefs,  and,  at  the  fame  time, 
from  fervour  and  enthufiafm,  to  corrcftnefs  and  precinon. 
Style  becomes  more  chafte  ;  but  lefs  animated.  The  pro- 
grefs  of  the  world  in  this  refpetl  refembles  the  progrels  of 
age  in  man.  The  powers  of  imagination  are  mofl  vigo- 
rous and  predominant  in  youth  ;  thofe  of  the  underiland- 
ing ripen  more  ilowly,  and  often  attain  not  to  their  ma- 
turity, till  the  imagination  begin  to  flag.  Hence,  poetr}-, 
which  is  the  child  of  imagination,  is  frequently  moil 
glowing  and  animated  in  the  firft  ages  of  fociety.  As 
the  ideas  of  our  youth  are  remembered  with  a  peculiar 
pleaiure  on  account  of  their  livelinefs  and  vivacity  ;  fo 
the  moft  ancient  poems  have  often  proved  the  greatefc 
favouiites  of  nations. 

Poetry  has  been  faid  to  be  more  ancient  than  profe : 
and  however  paradoxical  fuch  an  aifertion  may  feem,  yet, 
in  a  qualified  fenfe,  it  is  true.  Men  certainly  never  converf- 
ed  together  in  regular  numbers  ;  but  even  their  ordinary 
language  would,  in  ancient  times,  for  the  reafons  before  af- 
figned,  approach  to  a  poetical  llyle  ;  and  the  firft  compofiti- 
ons  tranfmitted  to  poflerity,  beyond  doubt,  were,  in  a  lite- 
ral fenfe,  poems  ;  that  is,  compoiicions  in  which  imagina- 
tion had  the  chief  hand,  formed  into  fome  kind  of  num- 
bers, and  pronounced  with  a  mufical  modulation  or  tone. 
Mufic  or  fong  has  been  found  coeval  v/itli  fociety  among 
the  moll  barbarous  nations.  The  only  fubjecis  which 
could  prompt  men,  in  their  firft  rude  ftate,  to  utter  their 
thoughts  in  compofitions  of  any  length,  were  fuch  as  na- 
turally alfumed  the  tone  of  poetry  ;  praifes  of  their  gods, 
or  of  their  anceftors;  commemorations  of  their  own  war- 
like exploits  5  or  lamentations  over  their  misfortunes.    And 

before 


420     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

before  writing  was  invented,  no  other  compofitions,  ex- 
cept fongs  or  poems,  could  take  fuch  hold  of  the  imagina- 
tion and  memory,  as  to  be  preferved  by  oral  tradition, 
and  handed  down  from  one  race  to  another. 

Hfnce  we  may  expect  to  find  poems  among  the  anti- 
quities of  all  nations.  It  is  probable  too,  that  an  extenfive 
fearch  would  difcover  a  certain  degree  of  refemblance 
among  all  the  moil  ancient  poetical  produdions,  from 
whatever  country  they  have  proceeded.  In  a  limilar  flate 
of.  manners,  fimilar  objeds  and  paifions  operating  upon 
the  imaginations  of  men,  will  flamp  their  produftions  with 
the  fame  general  character.  Som^e  diverfity  will,  no 
doubt,  be  occafioned  by  climate  and  genius.  But  man- 
kind never  bear  fuch  refembling  features,  as  they  do  in 
the  beginnings  of  fociety.  Its  fubfequent  revolutions  give 
rife  to  the  principal  diftinftions  among  nations;  and  divert, 
into  channels  widely  feparated,  that  current  of  human  ge- 
nius and  manners,  which  defcends  originally  from  one 
fpring.  What  we  have  been  long  accuftomed  to  call  the 
oriental  vein  of  poetry,  becaufe  fome  of  the  earlieft 
poetical  produftions  have  come  to  us  from  the  eafl,  is 
probably  no  more  oriental  than  occidental ;  it  is  charac- 
teriitical  of  an  age  rather  than  a  country  ;  and  belongs,  in 
fome  meafuie,  to  all  nations  at  a  certain  period.  Of  this 
the  works  of  Offian  feem  to  furnifli  a  remarkable  proof. 

Our  prefent  fubjed:  leads  us  to  inveftigate  the  ancient 
poetical  remains,  not  fo  much  of  the  eafl,  or  of  the  Greeks 
and  Romans,  as  of  the  northern  nations ;  in  order  to  dif- 
cover whether  the  Gothic  poetry  has  any  refemblance  to 
the  Celtic  or  Galic,  which  we  are  about  to  confider. 
Though  the  Goths,  under  which  name  we  ufually  com- 
prehend all  the  Scandinavian  tribes,  were  a  people  alto- 
gether fierce  and  martial,  and  noted,  to  a  proverb,  for 
their  ignorance  of  the  liberal  arts,  yet  they,  too,  from  the 
earlieft  times  had  their  poets  and  their  fongs.  Their  poels 
were  diflinguiflied  by  the  title  of  Scalders,  and  their  fongs 
were  termed  Vyfes*.    Saxo  Grammaticus,  a  Danifh  hifto- 

rian 

*  Obus  Wormius,  in  the  appendix  to  his  Treatife  de  Lileratura  Runica,  has 
given  a  particular  account  of  the  Gothic  poetry,  commonly  called  Runic,  from  liii- 
nes,  which  figaifles  the  Gothic  letters.     He  informs  us  that  there  were  no  fewer 

than 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  421 

rian  of  confiderable  note  who  fiouriflied  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  informs  us  that  very  many  of  thefe  fongs,  con- 
taining the  ancient  traditionary  (lories  of  the  country, 
were  found  engraven  upon  rocks  in  the  old  Runic  charac- 
ter ;  feveral  of  which  he  has  tranflated  into  Latin,  and  in- 
ferted  into  his  liiftory.  But  his  verfions  are  plainly  fo 
paraphraftical,  and  forced  into  fuch  an  imitation  of  the 
ftyle  and  the  meafures  of  the  Roman  poets,  that  one  can 
form  no  judgment  from  them  of  the  native  fpirit  of  the 
original.  A  more  curious  monument  of  the  true  Gothic 
poetry  is  preferved  by  Olaus  Wormius  in  his  book  de  Li- 
teral ura  Runlca.  It  is  an  Epicedium.,  or  funeral  fong, 
compofed  by  Regner  Lodbrog ;  and  tranflated  by  Olaus, 
word  for  word,  from  the  original.  -This  Lodbrog  was  a 
king  of  Denmark,  who  lived  in  the  eighth  century,  fa- 
mous for  his  wars  and  viftories  ;  and  at  the  fame  time  an 
eminent  Scalder  or  poet.  It  was  his  misfortune  to  fall  at 
lail  into  the  hands  of  one  of  his  enemies,  by  whom  he  was 

thrown 

than  136  difFeient  kinds  of  meafure  orverfe  ufcd  in  their  V)ifcs;  and  though  we  are 
accullomed  to  call  rhyme  a  Gothic  invention,  he  lays  exprefsly,  that  among  all 
thele  meafures,  rhyme,  or  correfpondence  of  final  fyllables,  was  never  employed. 
He  analyfes  the  ftrufture  of  one  of  thefe  kinds  of  vcrfe,  that  in  which  the  poem 
of  Lodbrog,  afterwards  quoted,  is  written;  which  exhibits  a  very  fingular  fpecies 
of  harmony,  if  it  can  be  allowed  that  name,  depending  neither  upon  rhyme  nor  up- 
on metrical  feet,  or  quantity  of  fyllables,  but  chiefly  upon  the  number  of  the  fylla- 
bles, and  the  difpolition  of  the  letters,  in  every  ftanza  was  an  equal  number  of 
lines :  in  everv  line  fix  fyllables.  In  each  diftich,  it  was  rcquifue  that  three  words 
lliould  begii  with  the  fame  letter;  two  of  the  correfponding  woids  placed  in  the  firit 
line  of  the  diftich,  the  third,  in  the  fecond  line.  In  each  liu.e  were  alfo  required 
two  fyllables,  but  never  the  final  ones,  formed  either  of  the  fame  confonants,  or 
lane  vowels.  As  an  example  ot  this  meafure,  Oiaus  gives  us  thele  two  Latin  lines, 
conftrufted  exactly  according  to  the  above  rules  of  Runic  vcrfe ; 

Chriilus  caput  iioflruin 

Coronet  te  bonis. 
The  initial  letters  of  Chrirtus,  Caput,  and  Coronet,  make  the  three  correfponding 
letters  of  the  diftich.  In  the  firft  line,  the  firil  fyllables  of  Chiiflas  and  of  noftrum  ; 
in  the  fecond  line,  the  on  in  coronet  and  in  bonis  make  the  requifitecorrelpondencc 
of  fyllables.  Frequent  inverfions  and  tranfpofitions  were  permitted  in  this  poetry  ; 
which  would  naturally  follow  fiom  fuch  laborious  attention  to  the  coUocaiion  ot 
words. 

The  curious  on  this  fubjeft  mav  confult  likewife  Dr.  Hicks's  Thcfaurus  Lin- 
guarum  Septentrionalium  ;  paiticufarly  the  23d  chapter  of  his  Gramma'.ica  Anglo 
Saxonica  &  Masfo  Gothica;  where  they  will  find  a  full  account  of  the  ftiufluie  of 
the  Anglo  Saxon  verfe,  which  nearly  refembled  the  Gothic.  They  will  find  alio 
fome  fpecimens  both  of  Gothic  and  Saxon  poetry.  An  cxtrafl,  which  D..  Kicks 
has  given  from  the  work  of  one  of  the  Danifh  Scalders,  entitled,  Hervarei  Sag:i, 
containing  an  cvocauon  fiom  the  dead,  may  befeund  in  the  6ih  Ycli'.mc  of  Mifcc- 
lany  Poems,  publiflied  by  Mr.  Drydcn, 


422     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

thrown  into  prifon,  and  condemned  to  be  deflroyed  bv 
ferpents.  In  this  fituation  he  folaced  himfelf  with  rehear- 
fmg  all  the  exploits  of  his  life.  The  poem  is  divided  in- 
to twenty-nine  ftanzas,  of  ten  lines  each  ;  and  every  ftan- 
za  begins  with  thefe  words,  Pagnavimus  Enfibus,  "  We 
have  fought  with  our  fwords."  Olaus's  verfion  is  in  ma- 
ny places  lb  obfcure  as  to  be  hardly  intelhgible.  I  have 
fubjoined  the  whole  below,  exadtly  as  he  has  publilhed 
it  ;  and  iliall  tranflate  as  much  as  may  give  the  Englifh 
reader  an  idea  of  the  fpiiit  and  ftrain  of  this  kind  of 
poetry*. 

"    W£ 

*  I.  5. 

Pugnavimus  'Enfibus  Memini  neminem  tunc  fugifle 

Haud  poif  longum  tempus  PriuTi^uam  in  navibus 

Cum  in  Gotlandia  acceflimus  Heiaudus  in  belio  cadereC 

Ad  lerpentis  immenfi  necem  Non  findit  navibus 

Tunc  impetravimus  'Thoiam  Alius  baro  piffifiantior 

Ex  ttoc  vocarunt  me  virum  Mare  ad  portum 

Quoa  ferpentem  transfodi  In  navibus  longis  poll  ilium 

Hirfutam  braccam  ob  iilam  cedem  Sic  attulic  priiceps  paflim 

Cufpid?  iiftum  in'uii  in  coiubrum  Aiacre  in  bellum  cor. 

Ferro  lucidorum  ftupendiorum.  6.  • 

2.  Exercitus  abjecit  clypeos 
Multum  juvenis  fui  quando  acquifivimus       Cum  hafta  vulavit 
Oriencem  verfus  in  Oreonico  (Veto  Ardua  ad  virorum  peflora 
Vulnerum  amnes  avi^ae  fera:  Momordit  Scarforum  cautes 
Ec  flavipcdi  avi  dladius  in  pugna 
Accepimus  ibidem  fonuerunc  Sanguineus  erat  Clypeus 

Ad  fublimes  galeas  AnCequam  Rafno  rex  caderet 

Dura  feira  magnarn  efcam  Fiuxic  ex  virorum  capitibus 

Omnii  erat  oceanus  vulnus  Calidus  in  loricas  fudor. 
Vadavit  corvus  in  ianguine  Caeforum  7. 

3.  Habere  potuerunt  turn  corvi 
Alte  tulimus  tunc  lanceas  Ante  Indirorum  infulas 
Quanoo  viginti  annos  nuraeravimus  Sufficientem  piaedam  dilanlandara 
Eccelebrtm  laudem  comparavimus  palTim     Acquifivimus  feris  carnivoris 
Vicimus  o£lo  barones  Plenum  prandiuin  unico  ailu 

Jn  orients  ante  Dimini  portum  Difficile  erat  unius  facere  mentionesa 

Aquila;  impetravimus  tunc  fufflcientcm         Orients  fole 

Hofpitii  fumprum  in  ilia  (Irage  Spicula  vidi  pungere 

Sudor  decidit  in  vulnerum  Propuierunt  arcus  ex  fe  ferra. 

Oceano  perdidit  exc'citus  aetatem  8. 

4.  Altum  mugierunt  eiifes 
Pugnse  fafla  copla  Antequam  in  Laneo  campo 
Cum  He!;ing).;nos  poftulavimus  Eillinus  rex  cecidit 

Ad  aulam  Odini  Pioceflimus  auro  ditati 

Naves  direximus  in  oftium  Vifiulse  Ad  terram  proflratorum  dimicandum 

Mucro  potuit  tummordeie  Gladius  fecuit  Clypeorum 

Omnis  frat  vulnus  unda  Piduras  in  galeorum  conventu 

Terra  rubeiadta  Calido  Cervicum  muftum  ex  vulneribus 

Fr.ndebat  gladius  in  loricas  DiiFufum  per  cerebium  fiffum. 

Giadius  Jir.debat  Clypeas.  ' 

Tcnuimus 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN. 


423 


"  We  have  fought  with  our  fwords.  I  was  young, 
*'  when,  tov^^ards  the  eafl,  in  the  biiy  oi  Oreon,  we  made 
"  torrents  of  blood  How,  to  gorge  tne  ravenous  beaft  of 
"  prey,  and  the  yellow-footed  bird.  There  refounded 
"  the  hard  fteel  upon  the  lofty  helmets  of  men.  The 
"  whole  ocean  was  one  wound.    The  crow  waded  in  the 

"  blood 


Tenuimu!  Clypeos  in  fanguine 

Cum  haftam  unximus 

Ante  Boring  holmum 

Telorum  nubes  dilVumpunt  clypeum 

Extrufit  arcus  sx  fe  metallum 

Volnir  cecidit  in  confiidlu 

Non  erat  lUo  rex  major 

Csefi  difperli  late  per  llttora 

Ferae  ampledlebantur  efcam. 

10. 
Pugna  manifefte  crefcebat 
Antequam  Freyr  rex  caderec 
In  Flandrorum  terra 
Csepic  tseruleus  ad  inciierdura 
Sanguine  illitus  in  aureain 
Loricam  in  pugna 
Durus  armorum  mucro  dim 
Virgo  deploravit  matutinam  lanienam 
Multa  pra;da  dabatur  feris. 

II. 
Centies  centcnos  vidi  jacere 
In  navibus 

Ubi  /Englanes  vocatur 
Navigavimus  ad  pugnam 
Per  fex  dies  antequam  exercitus  caderet 
Tranfegimus  mucronum  miffam 
In  exortu  folis 

Coa(Sus  eft  pro  noftris  gladiis 
Valdiofur  in  bello  occumbere. 

12. 
Ruit  pluvia  fanguinis  de  gladlis 
PiEeceps  in  Bardafryde 
Pallidum  corpus  pro  accipitribus 
Murmuravit  arcus  ubi  mucro 
Acriter  mordebat  Loricas 
In  conflidlu 
Odini  Pileus  Galea 
Cucurrit  arcus  ad  vulnus 
Venenate   acutus  confperfus  fudore  fan- 

13.  guineo. 

Tenuimus  magica  fcuta 
Alte  in  Pugns  ludo 
Ante  Hiadningum  finum 
Videre  licu'.t  turn  viics 
Qui  gladiis  lacerarunt  Clypecs 
Jn  gladiatorio  murmure 
Galex  attritse  virorum 
Erat  licut  fplendidam  virginem 
Tb  ledlo  juxta  fe  collocais. 


14. 
Dura  venit  tempeftas  Clypeis 
Cadaver  cecidit  in  terram 
In  Nortumbria 
Erat  circa  matutinum  tempus 
Hominibus  neceflum  erat  fugere 
Ex  pjelio  ubi  acute 
Caffidus  campos  mordebant  gladii 
Erat  hoc  veluti  Juvenem  viduam 
In  primaria  fcde  cfculaii. 

Hertniofe  evafit  forfunatus 
In  Aurtialibus  Orcadibus  ipfe 
Vidtorije  in  noftris  hominious 
Cogebatur  in  armorum  nimbo 
Rogvaldus  occumbere 
lite  venit  fummus  fuper  accipitres 
Ludlus  in  gladioium  ludo 
Strenue  jadabat  concuffor 
Gaie£e  fanguinis  teii. 
16. 
Quilibet  jacebat  tr.infverfim  fupra  aiium. 
Graudebat  pugna  Isetus 
Accipiter  ob  gladiorum  ludum 
Non  fecit  aliquam  aut  aprura 
Qui  Irlandiam  gubernavit 
Conventus  fiebat  ferri  &  Clypei 
Manlanus  rex  jejunis 
Fiebat  in  vebix  linu. 
Prjeda  data  corvis. 

17' 
Bellatorem  multum  vidi  cadere 
Mane  ante  machceram 
Virum  in  mucronum  oifildio 
Filio  meo  incidit  mature 
Gladius  juxta  cor 
Egillus  fecit  Agnerum  fpoliatum 
Imperiertitum  virum  vita 
Sonuit  lancea  prope  Hamdi 
Grifeam  loricam  fplendebant  vexilla. 

iS. 
Verborum  tenaces  vidi  diffecare 
Haut  minutim  pro  lupis 
Endili  maris  enfibus 
Erat  per  Hebdomadse  fpacium 
Quafi  mulieres  vinum  apportarent 
Rubefact:e  crane  naves 
Valde  in  ftrepitu  armoium 
Scifla  erat  lorica 
In  Scioldungorum  prreiio. 

Pukhriccmum 


424     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  blood  of  the  flain.     When  we  had  numbered  twenty 

"  years,  we  lifted  our  fpears  on  high,   and  every  where 

"  fpread  our  renown.     Eight  barons  we  overcame  in  the 

"  eaft,  before  the  port  of  Diminum  ;  and  plentifully  we 

"  feafted  the  eagle  in  that  flaughter.     The  warm  llream 

"  of  wounds  ran  into  the  ocean.     The  army  fell  before 


'^  us. 
19.  24. 

PuIchricomHm  viJi  crepufculafcere  Hoc  videtur  mihi  re  vera 

VirgJnis  amatorem  circa  matutinum  Quod  fata  lecjuimur 

Ec  confabulationis  amicum  viduarum  Rai  us  tranlgreditur  fata  Parcarum 

Erat  ficutcalidiim  balneum  Non  deftinavi  Ellas 

Vinei  vafis  nymnha  portaret  De  vitae  exitu  rrifje 

Nos  in  lis  ireto  Cum  ego  fanguinem  femlmortuus  tegerern 

Antiquam  Orn  rex  caderet  Et  naves  in  aquas  protruli 

Sanguinftiim  Oypeum  vidi  ruptum  Paffim  impetravimus  turn  feris 

Hoc  jnvsrtit  virorum  vitam.  Efcam  in  Scotis  iinibus. 


20. 


25. 


Egimus  gladiorum  ad  caedem  Hoc  ridere  me  facit  lemper 

Ludum  in  Lindis  inlula  Quod  Balderi  pauis  fcamna 

Cum  regibus  tribus  Parata  fcio  in  aula 

Pauci  potuerunt  inde  ]^tan  Bibemus  cerevifiam  brevj 

Cecidit  multus  in  ridtum  ferarum  Ex  concavis  cratcribus  craniorum 

Accipiter  dilaniavit  carnem  cum  lupa  Non  gemit  vir  forcis  contra  mortem 

TJc  fatur  inde  difcedereC  Magnifici  in  Odini  domibus 

Hybernorum  fanguis  in  oceanum  Non  venio  difperabundis 

Copiofe  decidit  per  ma<5latioiiis  tempus.        Verbis  ad  Odini  auiam. 

21.  26. 
Alte  gladius  mordebat  Clypeos  '                      Hie  vellcnt  nunc  omnes 
Tunc  cum  aurei  coloris                                      FiJii  Allaugje  gladiis 
Hafta  fricabat.loiicas                                          Amarum  btllum  cxciiaie 
Videre  licuit  in  Onlugs  infala                          Si  exaCie  fcirent 

Per  fecula  multum  poft  Calamicates  noftras 

Ibi  fuit  ad  gladiorum  ludos  Quern  non  pauci  angues 

Regcs  proceflerunt  Venenati  me  difcerpunt 

RubicunJum  erat  circa  infulam  Matrem  accrpi  meis 

Ar  volans  Draco  vulnerum.  Filiis  ita  ut  corda  valeant. 

22.  27. 

Quid  eft  viro  forti  morte  certius  Valde  inclinatur  ad  hseieditatem 

Edi  ipfe  in  armorum  nimbo  Crudele  ftat  nocumentum  a  vipera 

Adverfus  coJIocatus  fit  Anguis^iuhabitat  auiam  cordis 

Sxpe  depiorat  xtatem  Speramus  alterius  ad  Othini 

Qui  nunquam  premitur  Virgam  in  Ellse  fanguine 

Malum  ferunt  timidum  incitare  Filiis  meis  Jivefcet 

Aq uilam  ad  gladiorum  ludum  Sua  ira  rubefcet 

Meticuiofus  venit  nufpiam  Non  acres  juvenis 

Cordi  fuo  ufui.  Seffionem  tranquillam  facient. 

23.  28. 
Hoc  numero  xquum  uC  procedat  Habeo  quinquagies 

In  contaiflu  gladiorum  Prselia  fub  lignis  fa<fla 

juvenis  unus  contra  alteruni  Ex  belli  invitatione  &  femel 

Non  retrocedat  vir  a  viro.  Minime  putavit  hominum 

Hoc  fuit  viri  fortis  nobiiitas  oiii  Quod  me  futurus  efl'ec 
Semper  debet  armoris  amicus  virginum  Juvenis  didici  mucronem  rubefacere 

Ai^dax  elVe  iia  fremicii  armorum.  Alius  rex  prxftantior 

'  Nos  Afas  invitabunt 
Non  eft  iugcnda  mors. 

Fert 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  425 

"  us.  "When  we  fleered  our  fhips  Into  the  mouth  of  the 
"  VKtuIa,  we  lent  the  Heh^mgians  to  the  Hall  of  Odin. 
"  Then  did  the  fword  bite.  The  waters  were  all  one 
'^  wound.  The  earth  was  dyed  red  with  the  warm  ftream. 
*'  The  fword  rung  upon  the  coats  of  mail,  and  clove  the 
"  bucklers  in  twain.  None  fled  on  that  day,  till  among 
"  his  Ihips  Heraudus  fell.  Than  him  no  braver  baron 
"  cleaves  the  fea  with  ihips  ;  a  chearfui  heart  did  he  ever 
''  bring  to  the  combat.  Then  the  hoft  threw  av/ay  their 
"  fhields,  when  the  uplifted  fpear  flew  at  the  breads  of 
"  heroes.  The  fv/ord  bit  the  Scarfian  rocks  ;  bloody  was 
"  the  fhield  in  battle,  until  Rafno  the  kincr  was  (lain. 
"  From  the  heads  01  warriors  the  warm  fweat  ftreamed 
"  down  their  armour.  The  crows  around  the  Indirian 
"  illands  had  an  ample  prey.  It  were  difficult  to  fingle  out 
one  among  fo  many  deaths.  At  the  rifmg  of  the  fun 
I  beheld  the  fpears  piercing  the  bodies  of  foes,  and  the 
bows  throwing  forth  their  fteel-pointed  arrovvs.  Loud 
roared  the  fwords  in  the  plains  of  Lano. — The  virgin 
"  lono;  bewailed  the  llauiT-hter  of  that  mornine;."     In  this 

o  o  o  _ 

ftrain  the  poet  continues  to  defcribe  feveral  other  military 
exploits.  The  images  are  not  much  varied  :  the  noife  of 
arms,  the  dreaming  of  blood,  and  the  feafting  the  bir.ds 
of  prey,  often  recurring.  He  mentions  the  death  of  two 
of  his  fons  in  battle  ;  and  the  lamentation  he  defcribes 
as  made  for  one  of  them  is  very  fmgular.  A  Grecian  or 
Roman  poet  would  have  introduced  the  virgins  or  nymphs 
of  the  wood,  bewailing  the  untimely  fall  of  a  young  hero. 
But,  fays  our  Gothic  poet,  "'  When  Rogvaldus  was  llain, 
'"  for  him  mourned  all  the  hawks  of  heaven,"  as  lament- 
ing a  benefactor  who  had  fo  liberally  fupplled  them  with 
prey  ;  "  for  boldly,"  as  he  adds,  "  in  the  (trife  of  fwords, 
"  did  the  breaker  of  helmets  throv/  the  fpear  of  blood." 
The  poem  concludes  with  fentiments  of  the  highcil 
bravery  and  contempt  of  death.  "  What  is  more  certain 
*'  to  the  brave  man  than  death,  though  amidft  the  ftorm 

H  h  h  "  of 

29.  Lnetus  cereviiiam  cum  Afii 

Fert  animus  finire  In  fumma  fede  bibam 

Invitant  me  Dyfae  Vitae  elapfe  funt  horie 

Quas  ex  Othini  aula  Ridens  mori<»r. 
Othinus  mihi  mifit 


426    A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  of  fwords,  he  ftands  always  ready  to  oppofe  it  ?  He 
"  only  regrets  this  life  who  hath  never  known  diftrefs. 
'-  The  timorous  man  allures  the  devouring  eagle  to  the 
*'  field  of  battle.  The  coward,  wherever  he  comes,  is 
'-  ufelefs  to  himfelf.  This  I  efteem  honourable,  that  the 
"  youth  iliould  advance  to  the  combat  fairly  matched  one 
"  againft  another  ;  nor  man  retreat  from  man.  Long 
"  was  this  the  warrior's  higheft  glory.  He  who  afpire's 
"  to  the  love  of  virgins,  ought  always  to  be  foremoll  in 
"  the  roar  of  arms.  It  appears  to  me  of  truth,  that  we 
"  are  led  by  the  Fates.  Seldom  can  any  overcome  the 
"  appointment  of  delfiny.  Little  did  I  forefee  that  Ella* 
"  was  to  have  my  life  in  his  hands,  in  that  day  when, 
"  fainting,  I  concealed  my  blood,  and  pulhed  forth  my 
"  ihips  into  the  waves  ;  after  we  had  fpread  a  repaft  for 
"  the  beads  of  prey  throughout  the  Scottifli  bays.  But 
"  this  makes  me  always  rejoice,  that  in  the  halls  of  our 
"  father  Balder  [or  Odinj  I  know  there  are  feats  pre- 
"  pared,  where,  in  a  fhort  time,  we  Ihall  be  drinking  ale 
*'  out  ot  the  holIoY/  (Ivulls  of  our  enemies.  In  the  houfe 
"  of  the  mighty  Odin,  no  brave  man  laments  death.  I 
"  come  not  with  the  voice  of  defpair  to  Odin's  hall. 
"  How  eagerly  would  all  the  fons  of  AHauga  now  rufli  to 
war,  did  they  know  the  diftrefs  of  their  father,  whom 
a  multitude  of  venomous  ferpents  tear  !- — I  have  given 
"  to  my  children  a  mother  who  hath  filled  their  hearts 
*°  with  valour.  I  am  fail  approaching  to  my  end.  A  cruel 
"  death  awaits  me  from  the  viper's  bite.  A  fnake  dwells 
*'  in  the  midft  of  my  heart.  I  hope  that  the  fword  oj 
"  fome  of  my  fons  lliall  yet  be  ftained  with  the  blood  of 
*'  Ella.  The  valiant  youths  will  wax  red  with  anger, 
^'  and  will  not  fit  in  peace.  Fifty  and  one  times  have  I 
"  reared  the  flandard  in  battle.  In  my  youth  I  learned 
"  to  dye  the  fword  in  blood  :  my  hope  was  then,  that  no 
"  king  among  men  would  be  more  renowned  than  me. 
•"  The  goddelfes  of  death  wdll  now  foon  call  me ;  I  mufl 
-  ncrt  mourn  my  death.  Now  I  end  my  fong.  The  god- 
".  delTes  invite  me  away  ;  they  whom  Odin  has  fent  to 
^  me  from  his  hall.    I  will  fit  upon  a  lofty  feat,  and  drink 

"  ale 

t  This  was  tbe  rame  of  his  enemy,  who  had  condemned  him  to  death. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.        427 

"  ale  joyfully  with  the  goddefles  of  death.  The  hours  of 
"  my  life  are  run  out.     I  will  fmile  when  I  die.'* 

This  is  fuch  poetry  as  we  might  exped  from  a  barbar- 
ous nation.  It  breathes  a  molt  ferocious  fpirit.  It  is 
wild,  harfh,  and  irregular  ;  but  at  the  fame  time  animat- 
ed and  ilrong  ;  the  Ityle,  in  the  original,  full  of  inverfi- 
ons,  and,  as  we  learn  from  fome  of  Olaus's  notes,  highly 
metaphorical  and  figured. 

But  when  we  open  the  works  of  Offian,  a  very  dif- 
ferent fcene  prefents  itfelf.  There  we  find  the  fire  and 
the  enthufiafm  of  the  moft  early  times,  combined  with 
an  amazing  degree  of  regularity  and  art.  We  find 
tendernefs,  and  even  delicacy  of  fentiment,  greatly  pre- 
dominant over  fiercenefs  and  barbarity.  Our  hearts  are 
melted  with  the  fofteft  feelings,  and  at  the  fame  time  ele- 
vated with  the  highell  ideas  of  magnanimity,  generofitv, 
and  true  heroifm.  When  we  turn  from  the  poetry  of 
Lodbrog  to  that  of  Ofiian,  it  is  like  pafling  from  a  favage 
defart,  into  a  fertile  and  cultivated  country.  How  is  this 
to  be  accounted  for  ?  Or  by  Vv'hat  means  to  be  reconciled 
with  the  remote  antiquity  attributed  to  thefe  poems? — This 
is  a  curious  point  ;  and  requires  to  be  illuftrated. 

That  the  ancient  Scots  were  of  Celtic  original,  is  paft 
all  doubt.  Their  conformity  with  the  Celtic  nations  in 
language,  manners,  and  religion,  proves  it  to  a  full  dc- 
monftration.  The  Celtae,  a  great  and  mighty  people,  al- 
together diftincl  from  the  Goths  and  Teutones,  once  ex- 
tended their  dominion  over  all  the  weft  of  Europe ;  but 
feem  to  have  had  their  moil  full  and  compleat  eftablifh- 
ment  in  Gaul.  Wherever  the  Celtas  or  Gauls  are  menti- 
oned by  ancient  writers,  we  feldom  fail  to  hear  of  their 
Druids  and  their  Bards  ;  the  inftitution  of  which  two  or- 
ders, was  the  capital  diftinftion  of  their  manners  and  po- 
licy. The  Druids  were  their  philofophers  and  priefts;  the 
Bards,  their  poets  and  recorders  of  heroic  actions  :  And 
both  thefe  orders  of  men,  feem  to  have  fubfifted  among 
them,  as  chief  members  of  the  ftate,  from  time  immemo- 
rial *.    We  muft  not  therefore  imagine  the  Celtse  to  have 

beeii 

*    T plot  (pvXoi  rS*   TifMiy^iiMi  6tcc\pi^ovTM<;    171.      Bcc^ci   ri  kk)  i(X7it<,  y^ 


428     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

been  altogether  a  grofs  and  rude  nation.  They  poiTefied 
from  very  remote  ages  a  formed  fyitem  of  difcipline  and 
manners,  which  appears  to  have  had  a  deep  and  lalting 
influence.  Ammianiis  Marcellinus  gives  them  this  ex- 
prefs  teflimony,  that  there  fiouriihed  among  them  the  ftu- 
dy  of  the  moit  laudable  arts  ;  introduced  by  the  Bards, 
whofe  office  it  was  to  fmg  in  heroic  verfe,  the  gallant  ac- 
tions of  illuflrious  men  ;  and  by  the  Druids,  who  lived 
together  in  colleges  or  focieties,  after  the  Pythagorean 
manner,  and  philofophifmg  upon  the  higheft  fubjeds,  af- 
ferted  the  immortality  of  the  human  foul  *.  Though  Ju- 
lius Cs^far,  in  his  account  of  Gaul,  does  not  exprefslv  aen- 
tion  the  Bards,  yet  it  is  plain  that  under  the  title  of  Druids, 
he  comprehends  that  whole  college  or  order ;  of  which 
the  Bards,  who,  it  is  probable,  were  the  difciples  of  the 
Druids,  undoubtedly  made  a  part.  It  deferves  remark, 
that,  according  to  his  account,  the  Druidical  inftitution 
firfl  took  rife  in  Britain,  and  p?lled  from  thence  into  Goul; 
fo  that  they  who  afpired  to  be  thorough  mafters  of  that 
learning  were  wont  to  refort  to  Britain.  He  adds  too,  that 
fuch  as  were  to  be  initiated  among  the  Druids,  were  obli- 
ged to  commit  to  their  memory  a  great  number  of  verfes, 
infomuch  that  fome  employed  twenty  years  in  this  courfe 
of  education ;  and  that  they  did  not  think  it  lawful  to  re- 
cord thefe  poems  in  writing,  but  facredly  handed  them 
down  by  tradition  from  race  to  race  f. 

So  flronGT  was  the  attachment  of  the  Celtic  nations  to 

o 

their  poetry  and  their  bards,  that  amidft  all  the  changes 
of  their  eovernment  and  manners,  even  long;  after  the  or- 

der 

E'<5-<    Trap    livtoii    Hat  Troi/jTCii  f,i.iXciy,    itf  Bix^oi^g  ovafAoc^Sia-rj,  ^rot  ai  fin: 

Sic.  1.  5. 

T Oi  Oi  xy^^rpioirx  uvrojv  mrtv  a  x.ci>.h[J,ivot  (icc^oi.  TToinrcii  6  isrei  rvf- 
^oiv^a-i  ftjr'  aion^  \-x(x.:vi%  AsyavTsj.     Poiidonseus  ap.  Athen:euf ,  ]•  6. 

*  PerhEecloca  (fpeaking  oiGaul)  hoininibus  paulatim  excultis,  vigucrc  Jliidia 
laudabilium  doctrinarwn  ;  inchoata  per  Eardcs  &  Euhages  &  Druidas.  Et  Bardi 
tjuidem  fortia  viroiiun  illuflrium  facia  heioicis  compofita  verfibus  rum  dulcibus  ly- 
raj  modulls  cantitarunt.  Euhages  vero  fcrutantes  feriem  &  iublimia  natura-  pan- 
<lere  conabantur.  Inter  hos,  Druids  iiigeniis  celfiores,  ut  aufioritas  Pythagorce 
tkcrevit,  fodalitiis  adHrifti  conforiiis,  quseflionibus  altarum  occultarumque  reruui 
crectifunt;  &  defpeftantcs  Iramana  pronuntiarunt  animas  immortales.  Annn. 
Marcelliuus,  1.  15.  cap.  9. 

t  Vid.  Csifar  de  bello^Gall.  I.b.  6. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  429 

der  of  the  Druids  was  extinct,  and  the  national  religion 
altered,  the  bards  continued  to  flouriili ;  not  as  a  fet  of 
ftroUing  fongfters,  like  the  Greek  'ao*^*;  or  Raphiodifls,  in 
Homer's  time,  but  as  an  order  of  men  highly  refpeded  in 
the  ftate,  and  fupported  by  a  public  eftablilhment.  We 
find  them,  according  to  the  teflimonies  of  Strabo  and  Dio- 
dorus,  before  the  age  of  Auguftus  Casfar ;  and  we  find 
them  remaining  under  the  fame  name,  and  exercifmg  the 
fame  funftions  as  of  old,  in  Ireland,  and  in  the  north  of 
Scotland,  almoll  down  to  our  own  times.  It  is  well  known 
that  in  both  thefe  countries,  every  Regidus  or  chief  had  his 
own  bard,  who  was  confidered  as  an  officer  of  rank  in  his 
court ;  and  had  lands  afligned  him,  which  defcended 
to  his  family.  Of  the  honour  in  which  the  bards  w^re 
held,  many  inftances  occur  in  Offian's  poems.  On  all 
important  occafions,  they  were  the  ambafl'adors  between 
contending  chiefs  ;  and  their  perfons  were  held  facred. 
"  Cairbar  feared  to  flretch  his  fword  to  the  bards,  though 
"  his  foul  was  dark.  Loofe  the  bards,  faid"  his  brother 
"  Cathmor,  they  are  the  fons  of  other  times.  Their  voice 
"  fhall  be  heard  in  other  ages,  when  the  kings  of  Temora 
"  have  failed." 

From  all  this,  the  Celtic  tribes  clearly  appear  to  have 
been  addicted  in  fo  high  a  degree  to  poetry,  and  to  have 
made  it  fo  much  their  ftudy  from  the  earliefl  times,  as  may 
remove  our  wonder  at  meeting  with  a  vein  of  higher  poe- 
tical refinement  among  them,  than  was  at  firft  fight  to  have 
been  expected  among  nations,  whom  we  are  accuftomed 
to  call  barbarous.  Barbarity,  I  muft  obferve,  is  a  very 
equivocal  term  ;  it  admits  of  many  different  forms  and 
degrees  ;  and  though,  in  all  of  them,  it  excludes  poliflied 
manners,  it  is,  however,  not  inconfiftent  with  generous 
fentiments  and  tender  aife6tions  *.  What  degrees  of 
friendfhip,  love,  and  heroifm,  may  poffibly  be  found  to 
prevail  in  a  rude  ftate  of  fociety,  no  one  can  fay.  Afto- 
niHiing  inftances  of  them  we  know,  from  hiftory,  have 

fometimes 

*  Surely  among  the  wild  Laplanders,  if  any  where,  barbarity  is  in  its  mod  per- 
fect flaie.  Yet  their  love  fongs,  which  SchelTcr  has  given  us  in  his  Lapponia,  are 
a  proof  that  natural  tcndcrnefs  of  fentiment  may  be  found  in  a  country,  into  which 
the  Icaft  glimmeriii;!  of  Lience  has  never  penetrated.     To  mofl  Enolifh  readers 

ih(  fc 


430     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

fomethncs  appeared  :  and  a  few  characters  diflinguifhed 
by  thoie  high  qualities,  might  lay  a  foundation  for  a  fet 
of  manners  being  introduced  into  the  fongs  of  the  bards, 
more  refined,  it  is  probable,  and  exalted,  according  to  the 
ufual  poetical  licence,  than  the  real  manners  of  the  coun- 
try. '  In  particular,  with  refped  to  herolfm  ;  the  great 
employment  of  the  Celtic  bards,  was  to  delineate  the  cha- 
raclers,  and  fmg  the  pralfes,  of  heroes.     So  Lucan  ; 

Yos  quoque  qui  fortes  animos,  belloque  peremptos, 
Laudibus  in  longum  vates  diffunditis  Kvum 
Plurima  fecuri  fudiftis  carmina  bardi. 

Pbarf.  1.  I. 

Now,  when  we  conhder  a  college  or  order  of  men, 
who,  cultivating  poetry  throughout  a  long  feries  of  ages, 
had  their  imaginations  continually  employed  on  the  Ideas 
of  herolfm  ;  who  had  all  the  poems  and  panegyvicks, 
which  were  compofed  by  their  predeceflbrs,  handed  down 
to  them  with  care  ;  who  rivalled  and  endeavoured  to  out- 
llrip  thofi  who  had  gone  before  them,  each  in  the  cele- 
bration of  his  ov/n  particular  hero  ;  is  it  not  natural  to 
think,  that  at  length  the  chaiacler  of  a  hero  would  ap- 
pear in  their  fongs  with  the  higheft  luftre,  and  be  adorned 
with  cpjalitles  truly  noble  ?  Some  of  the  qualities,  indeed, 
which  diillnguifli  a  FIngal,  moderation,  humanity,  and 
clemency,  would  not  probably  be  the  firfl  ideas  of  he- 
rolfm occurring  to  a  barbarous  people  :    But  no  fooncr 

had 

thsfe  fongs  are  well  known  by  the  elej-ant  tranHations  of  them  in  the  Speflator, 
No.  366  and  400.  I  (Ivall  iubjoin  vSchctfer"s  Latin  veifion  of  one  of  them,  which 
hzK  the  appenraiice  of  being  Anflly  literal. 

Sol,  ciarifTimum  emitte  lumen  in  paludem  Orra.  Si  enifus  in  fumma  piccarum 
cacnmina  fcirem  me  vifuriim  Orra  pah'dem,  in  ca  eniterer,  ut  viderem  inter  quos 
arnica,  mea  cffet  {lores;  omnes  fufcinderem  Irutices  ibi  euatos,  omnes  ramos  prje- 
fecarcm,  hosvirrntes  ramos.  Curfiim  nubium  cffcnj  fccutus,  qua;  iter  fuum  infli- 
tiumt  verfus  paludem  Orra,  fi  ad  te  volare  poffem  alis,  cornicum  alis.  Sed  mihi 
defunt  ;:lx,  ala?  querqucdul*,  pedefque,  anferum  pedes  plantaeve  bonze,  (^use  de- 
ferre  me  valeant  ad  te.  Satis  expefbfii  diu ;  per  tot  dies,  tot  dies  tuos  optimos, 
oculis  tiiis  jucundifliniis,  corde  too  amiciflimo.  Quod  fi  iongilTime  vellcs  cffugcre, 
rito  tamen  te  confequerer.  Quid  firmms  validiulve  cfi'e  potcJl  quam  contoni  ner- 
vi,  catenafve  fcrrca;,  qua;  durillime  li^ant  ?  Sic  amor  controquet  caput  noflrum, 
rnutat  co^tationes  &  fententias.  Puerorum  voluntas,  voluntas  venti;  juvenura 
rogitationes,  longie  cogifationes.  Quos  fi  audirera  omnes,  a  via,  a  via  juUa  dech- 
r^Trcm.  Unum  eft  cbnfilium  quod  capiim  ;  iu  fcio  viam  refliorem  me  rcpcrtu- 
,Ti!ni.     Scliffferi  L?pponia,  Cap.  I'.j. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN. 


431 


hud  fuch  ideas  begun  to  dawn  on  the  minds  cf  poets, 
than,  as  the  human  mind  eafily  opens  to  the  native  repre- 
fentations  of  human  perfection,  they  would  be  feized  and 
embraced  ;  they  would  enter  into  their  panegyricks ;  they 
woukf  afford  materials  for  fucceeding  bards  to  work  upon, 
and  improve  ;  they  would  contribute  not  a  little  to  exalt 
^e  public  manners.  For  fuch  fongs  as  thefe,  familiar  to 
the  Celtic  warriors  from  their  childhood,  and  throughout 
their  whole  liie,  both  in  v;ar  and  in  peace,  their  princi- 
pal entertainm-cnt,  muil  have  had  a  very  confiderable  in- 
tiuence  in  propagating  among  them  real  manners,  nearly 
approaching  to  the  poetical ;  and  in  form.ing  even  fuch  a 
hero  as  Fingal  :  Efpecially  when  v/e  confider,  that,  among 
their  limited  objects  of  ambition,  among  the  few  advant- 
ages which,  in  a  favage  Itate,  man  could  obtain  over  man, 
the  chief  was  Fame,  and  that  Immortality  which  they  ex- 
pe6:ed  to  receive  from  their  virtues  and  exploits,  in  the 
fongs  of  bards  *. 

Having  made  thefe  remarks  on  the  Celtic  poetry  and 
bards  in  general,  I  fhall  next  confider  the  particular  ad- 
vantages which  OfTian  polTevied.  He  appears'  clearly  to 
have  lived  in  a  period  vvhich  enjoyed  all  the  benefit  1  juft 
now  mentioned  of  traditionary  poetry.  The  exploits  of 
Trathal,  Trenmor,  and  the  other  anceftors  of  Fingal,  are 
fpoken  of  as  familiarly  known.  Ancient  bards  are  fre- 
quently alluded  to.  In  one  rem.arkable  paliage,  Offian 
defcribes  himfelf  as  living  in  a  fort  of  claffical  age,  en- 
lightened by  the  memorials  of  former  times,  which  were 
conveyed  in  the  fongs  of  bards  ;  and  points  at  a  period  of 
darknefs  and  ignorance  which  lay  beyond  the  reach  of 
tradition.  "  His  words,"  fays  he,  "  came  only  by  halves 
"  to  our  ears  ;  they  were  dark  as  the  tales  of  other  times, 
"  before  the  light  of  the  fong  arofe."  Offian,  himfelf, 
appears  to  have  been  endowed  by  nature  with  an  e?:quifite 
fenfibility  of  heart;  prone  to  that  tender  melancholy  v/hich 
is  fo  often  an  attendant  on  great  genius ;  and  fufceptible, 

equally, 

*  When  Edward  I.  conquered  Wales,  he  put  to  doa'.h  all  the  Welch  bards. 
This  cruel  policy  plainly  Ihews,  how  great  an  influence  he  imagined  the  fongs  of 
thefe  baids  to  have  over  the  minds  of  the  people;  and  of  what  nature  he  judged 
that  influence  to  be,  Ths  Welfh  bards  were  of  the  fame  Celtic  race  with  the  Scot- 
tilli  and  I:i!h, 


432     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

equally,  of  ftrong,  and  of  foft,  emotions.  lie  was  not 
only  a  profeffed  bard,  educated  with  care,  as  we  may  ea- 
fily  believe,  to  all  the  poetical  art  then  known,  and  con- 
ne6ted,  as  he  fhews  us  himfelf,  in  intimate  friendihip  with 
the  other  contemporary  bards,  but  a  warrior  aifo,  and  the 
fon  of  the  mod  renowned  hero  and  prince  of  his  age. 
This  formed  a  conjunction  of  circumflances,  uncommon- 
ly favourable  towards  exalting  the  imagination  of  a  poet. 
He  relates  expeditions  in  which  he  had  been  engaged  ; 
he  fmgs  of  battles  in  which  he  had  fought  and  overcome  ; 
he  had  beheld  the  moil  illuPirious  fcenes  which  that  ape 
could  exhibit,  both  of  heroifm  in  war,  and  magnificence 
in  peace  :  for,  how^ever  rude  the  magnificence  of  thefe 
times  may  fecm  to  us,  we  muft  remember  that  all  ideas 
of  magnificence  are  comparative  ;  and  that  the  age  .  of 
Fingal  was  an  jera  of  diiiinguiflied  fplendor  in  that  part 
of  the  world.  Fingal  reigned  over  a  confiderable  terri- 
tory ;  he  was  enriched  with  the  fpoils  of  the  Roman  pro- 
vince ;  he  v/as  ennobled  by  his  vitlories  and  great  actions, 
and  was,  in  all  refpecls,  a  perfonage  of  much  higher  dig- 
nity than  any  of  the  chieftains,  or  heads  of  Clans,  who 
lived  in  the  fame  country,  after  a  more  extenfive  monar- 
chy was  eftabliihed. 

The  manners  of  Ollian's  age,  fo  far  as  we  can  gather 
them  from  his  writings,  were  abundantly  favourable  to  a 
poetical  genius.  The  two  difpiriting  vices,  to  which  Lon- 
ginus  imputes  the  decline  of  poetry,  covetoufnefs  and  ef- 
feminacy, were  as  yet  unknown.  The  cares  of  men  were 
few.  They  lived  a  roving  indolent  life  ;  hunting  and  v/ar 
their  principal  employments  ;  and  their  chief  amufements, 
the  niufic  of  bards  and  "  the  feaft  of  fliells."  The  great 
object  purfued  by  heroic  fpirits,  was  "  to  receive  their 
"  fame,"  that  is,  to  become  worthy  of  being  celebrated 
in  the  fongs  of  bards ;  and  "  to  have  their  name  on  the 
"  four  grey  ftones."  To  die,  unlamented  by  a  bard,  w^as 
deemed  fo  great  a  misfortune,  as  even  to  difturb  their 
ghofts  in  another  (late.  "  They  wander  in  thick  miffs  be- 
'"  fide  the  reedy  lake ;  but  never  fhall  they  rife,  without 
"  the  fong,  to  the  dwelling  of  winds."  After  death,  they 
expeded  to  follow  employments  of  the  fame  nature  with 

thofe 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         433 

thofe  which  had  amufed  them  on  earth  ;  to  fly  with  their 
friends  on  clouds,  to  purfue  airy  deer,  and  to  liften  to 
their  praife  in  the  mouths  of  bards.  In  fuch  times  as 
thefc,  in  a  country  where  poetry  had  been  fo  long  culti- 
vated, and  fo  highly  honoured,  is  it  any  wonder  that, 
among  the  race  and  fuccceffion  of  bards,  one  Homer  fhould 
arife ;  a  man  who,  endowed  with  a  natural  happy  genius, 
favoured  by  peculiar  advantages  of  birth  and  condition, 
and  meeting,  in  the  courfe  of  his  life,  with  a  variety  of  in- 
cidents proper  to  lire  his  imagination,  and  to  touch  his 
heart,  fhould  attain  a  degree  of  eminence  in  poetry,  wor^ 
thy  to  draw  the  admiration  of  more  refined  ages  ? 

The  compofitions  of  Offian  are  fo  ilrongly  marked  with 
characters  of  antiquity,  that  although  there  were  no  exter- 
nal proof  to  fupport  that  antiquity,  hardly  any  reader  of 
judgment  and  tafte,  could  hefitate  in  referring  them  to  a 
very  remote  tera.  There  are  four  great  ftages  through 
which  men  fucceffively  pafs  in  the  progrefs  of  fociety.  The 
firft  and  earliefl  is  the  life  of  hunters  ;  pafturage  fucceeds 
to  this,  as  the  ideas  of  property  begin  to  take  root ;  next 
agriculture  ;  and  laftly,  commerce.  Throughout  Offian's 
poems,  we  plainly  find  ourfelves  in  the  firfl  of  thefe  peri- 
ods of  fociety  ;  during  which,  hunting  was  the  chief  em- 
ployment of  men,  and  the  principal  method  of  their  pro- 
curing fubfiftence.  '  Pafturage  was  not  indeed  wholly  un- 
known ;  for  we  hear  of  dividing  the  herd  in  the  cafe  of  a 
divorce ;  but  the  allufions  to  herds  and  to  cattle  are  not 
many  :  and  of  agriculture  we  find  no  traces.  No  cities 
appear  to  have  been  built  in  the  territories  of  Fingal.  No 
arts  are  mentioned  except  that  of  navigation  and  of  work- 
ing in  iron  *.    Every  thing  prefents  to  us  the  moft  fimple 

I  i  i  and 

*  Their  {kill  in  navif^aiion  need  not  at  all  furprize  us.  Livins;  in  tlie  weflern 
iflands,  along  the  coaft,  or  in  a  country  which  is  every  where  interl'eflcd  with  arms 
of  the  lea,  one  of  the  firft  objefts  of  tl>€ir  attention,  from  the  earliell  lime,  mull 
have  been  how  to  traverfe  the  waters.  Hence  that  knowledge  of  the  ftars,  fo  ncccf- 
fary  for  guiding  them  by  night,  of  which  we  find  feveral  traces  in  Ofiian's  works; 
particularly  in  the  beautiful  delcription  of  Cathmor's  (hicld,  in  the  foventh  book 
of  Temora.  Amono-  all  the  northern  maritime  nations,  navigation  was  very  early 
iludied.  Piratical  incurfions  were  the  chief  means  they  employed  for  acquirincr 
booty  ;  and  were  among  the  firft  exploits  which  diHinguiftied  thejn  in  the  world. 
Even  the  favage  Americans  were  at  their  firft  difcovery  found  to  poft'efs  the  mofl 
furprifing  fkill  and  dexterity  in  navigating  their  immenfe  lakes  and  rivers. 


434      A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

and  unmiprovexi  manners.  At  their  feafts,  the  heroes 
prepared  their  own  repaft ;  they  fat  round  the  light  of  the 
burning  oak ;  the  wind  lifted  their  locks,  and  whiltled 
through  their  open  halls.  Whatever  was  beyond  the  ne- 
ceffaries  of  life  was  known  to  tl-aem  only  as  the  fpoil  of 
the  Roman  province;  "  the  gold  of  the  ftranger ;  the 
"  lights  of  the  ftranger  ;  the  deeds  of  the  flranger  ;  the 
"  children  of  the  reicn." 

This  reprefentation  of  Offian's  times,  muff  flrike  us  the 
more,  as  genuine  and  authentic,  when  it  is  compared  with 
a  poem  of  later  date,  which  Mr.  Macpherfon  has  preferved 
in  one  of  his  notes.  It  is  that  wherein  five  bards  are  re- 
prefented  as  paifing  the  evening  in  the  houfe  of  a  chief, 
and  each  of  them  feparately  giving  his  defcription  of  the 
night.  The  night-fcenery  is  beautiful ;  and  the  author 
has  plainly  imitated  the  ftyle  and  manner  of  OlTian  :  But 
he  has  allowed  fome  images  to  appear  which  betray  a 
later  period  of  fociety.  For  we  meet  with  windows  clap- 
ping, the  herds  of  goats  and  cows  feeking  fhelter,  the 
Ihepherd  wandering,  corn  on  the  plain,  and  the  v/akeful 
hind  rebuilding  the  fhocks  of  corn  which  had  been  over- 
turned by  the  tempcft.  Whereas  in  Oilian's  works,  from 
beginning  to  end, all  is  confident:  no  modern  allufion  drops 
from  him  ;  but  every  where,  the  fame  face  of  rude  nature 
appears  ;  a  country  wholl]'"  uncultivated,  thinly  inhabited, 
and  recently  peopled.  The  grafs  of  the  rock,  the  flower 
of  the  heath,  the  thiPJ.e  with  its  beard,  are  the  chief  or- 
naments of  his  landfcapes.  "  The  defart,"  fays  Fingal, 
*'  is  enough  to  me,  with  all  its  woods  and  deer.'* 

The  circle  of  ideas  and  tranfaclions,  is  no  wider  than 
fuits  fuch  an  age  ;  nor  any  greater  diverfity  introduced 
into  characters,  than  the  events  of  that  period  would  na- 
turally difplay.  Valour  and  bodily  flrength  are  the  ad- 
mired qualities.  Contentions  arife,  as  is  ufual  among  fa- 
vage  nations,  from  the  flighteft  caufes.  To  be  affronted 
at  a  tournament,  or  to  be  omitted  in  the  invitation  to  a 

feaft, 

TJae  defcription  of  CutlmHln's  clntiot,  m  the  ill  book  of  Fingal,  h;is  been  object- 
ed to  by  fome,  as  rcpnicntine;  greater  magnificence  than  is  conllltcnt  with  the  lup- 
pofed  poverty  oFthat  sgc.     But  this  chariot  is  plainly  on!v  a  horfe-litter ;  and  the 
gems  mentioned  in  the  defcription,  are  no  other  than  the  fnimng  floncs  or  pebbles, 
,i«a>n  to  {js  frccjucnUy  found  along  the  M'eSlern  coaR  ol  Seotlaml. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN-.  435 

feafi,  kindles  a  war.  Women  are  often  cariieei  away  by 
force  ;  and  the  whole  tribe,  as  in  the  Homeric  times,  rile 
to  avenge  the  wrong.  The  heroes  fliow  refinement  ot 
fentiment,  indeed,  on  feveral  occafions,  but  none  of  man- 
ners. They  fpeak  of  their  pad  a*ftions  with  freedom,  boa(t 
of  their  exploits,  and  fing  their  own  praife.  In  their  bat- 
tles, it  is  evident  that  drums,  trumpets,  or  bagpipes,  were 
not  known  or  ufed.  They  had  no  expedient  for  giving ' 
the  military  alarms  but  ilriking  a  fhield,  or  raifing  a  loud 
cry :  And  hence  the  loud  and  terrible  voice  of  Fingal  is 
often  mentioned,  as  a  necellary  qualification  of  a  great  ge- 
neral ;  like  the  l^oliv  ^}.yoi.^oi  m-:v-;a«05  of  Homer.  Of  military 
difcipline  or  fkill,  they  appear  to  have  been  entirely  defti- 
tute.  Their  armies  feem  not  to  have  been  numerous ; 
their  battles  were  cliforderly  ;  and  terminated,  for  the 
mod  part,  by  a  perfonal  combat,  or  wreilling  of  the  two 
chiefs  ;  after  which,  "  the  bard  fung  the  long  of  peace, 
''  and  the  battle  ceafed  alone  the  field."' 

The  manner  of  compofition  bears  all  the  marks  of  the 
greateH:  antiquity.  No  artful  tranfitions  ;  nor  full  and 
extended  connedtion  of  parts  ;  fuch  as  we  find  among  the 
poets  of  later  times,  when  order  and  regularity  of  compo- 
iation  were  more  ftudied  and  known ;  but  a  ftyle  always 
rapid  and  vehement ;  in  narrjjtion  concife,  even  to  abrupt- 
nefs,  and  leaving  feveral  circumftances  to  be  fupplied  by 
the  reader's  imagination.  The  language  has  all  that  figu- 
rative caff,  which,  as  I  before  ilicwed,  partly  a  glowing 
and  undifciplined  imagination,  partly  the  llerility  of  lan- 
guage, and  the  want  of  proper  terms,  have  always  intro- 
duced into  the  early  fpeech  af  nations ;  and,  in  feveral 
refpecls,  it  carries  a  remarkable  refemblance  to  the  flyle 
of  the  Old  Teflament.  It  deferves  particular  notice,  as 
one  of  the  moff  genuine  and  deciiive  characters  of  anti- 
quity, that  very  few  general  terms  or  abllrad  ideas,  are 
to  be  met  with  in  the  whole  colletlion  of  Offian's  works. 
The  ideas  of  men,  at  frrft,  were  all  particular.  They  had 
not  words  to  exprefs  general  conceptions.  Thefc  were  the 
confequence  of  more  profound  retleclion,  and  longer  ac- 
quaintance with  the  arts  of  thought  and  of  fpeech.  Oilian, 
accordingly,  almofl  never  expreifes  himfelf  in  the  abflra6f. 

His 


435      A  CRITICAL.  DISSERTATION  on 

His  Ideas  extended  little  farther  than  to  the  objefts  he  faw 
around  him.  A  public,  a  community,  the  univerfe,  were 
conceptions  beyond  his  iphere.  Even  a  mountain,  a  lea, 
or  a  lake,  which  he  has  occafion  to  mention,  though  only 
in  a  fimile,  are  for  the  mod  part  particularized  ;  it  is  the 
hill  of  Cromla,  the  dorm  of  the  fea  of  Malmor,  or  the 
reeds  of  the  lake  of  Lego.  A  mode  of  enprefiion  which, 
whilft  it  is  character! flical  of  ancient  ages,  is  at  the  fame 
time  highly  favourable  to  defcriptive  poetry.  For  the 
fame  reafons,  perfonification  is  a  poetical  figure  not  very 
common  with  OiTian.  Inanimate  objeds,  fuch  as  winds, 
trees,  flowers,  he  fometimes  perfonilies  with  great  beauty. 
But  the  perfoniiications  which  are  fo  familiar  to  later  poets, 
of  Fame,  Time,  Terror,  Virtue,  and  the  reft  of  that  clafsj 
■were  unknown  to  our  Celtic  bard.  Thefe  were  modes  ot 
conception  too  abftraft  for  his  age. 

All  thefe  are  marks  fo  undoubted,  and  fome  of  them, 
too,  fo  nice  and  delicate,  of  the  moft  early  times,  as  put 
the  high  antiquity  of  thefe  poems  out  of  queftion.  Efpe- 
cially  when  we  confider,  that  if  there  had  been  any  im.- 
potlure  in  this  cafe,  it  muft  have  been  contrived  and  exe- 
cuted in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  two  or  three  centu- 
ries ago  ;  as  up  to  this  period,  both  by  manufcripts,  and 
by  the  teftimony  of  a  multitude  of  living  witnefles,  con- 
cerning the  uncontrovertible  tradition  of  thefe  poems,  they 
can  clearly  be  traced.  Now,  this  is  a  period  when  that 
country  enjoyed  no  advantages  for  a  compofition  of  this 
kind,  which  it  may  not  be  fuppofed  to  have  enjoyed  in  as 
great,  if  not  in  a  greater  degree,  a  thoufand  years  before. 
To  fuppofe  that  tVvO  or  three  hundred  years  3go,  when  we 
well  knov/  the  Highlands  to  have  been  in  a  ftate  of  grofs 
ignorance  and  barbarity,  there  fhould  have  arifen  in  that 
country  a  poet,  of  fuch  exquifite  genius,  and  of  fuch  deep 
knowledge  of  mankind,  and-  of  hiftory,  as  to  diveft  him- 
fclf  of  the  ideas  and  manners  of  his  own  age,  and  to  give 
us  a  juft  and  natural  pidure  of  a  ftate  of  fociety  ancienter 
by  a  thoufand  years  ;  one  who  could  fupport  this  counter- 
feited antiquity  through  fuch  a  large  collection  of  poems, 
without  the  leaft  inconfiftency ;  and  who,  poffeHed  of  all 
this  genius  and  art,  had  at  the  fame  time  the  felf-denial  of 

concealing 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         437 

concealing  himfelf,  and  of  afcribing  his  own  works  to  an 
antiquated  bard,  without  the  impofiure  being  deteded  ; 
is  a  fuppofition  that  tranfcends  all  bounds  of  credibility. 

There  are,  befides,  two  other  circumftances  to  be  at- 
tended to,  fhill  of  greater  weight,  if  poffible,  againft  this 
hypothefis.  One  is,  the  total  abfence  of  religious  ideas 
Irom  this  work  ;  for  which  the  tranilator  has,  in  his  pre- 
face, given  a  very  probable  account,  on  the  footing  of  its 
being  the  work  of  Ofiian.  The  druidical  fupericition  was, 
in  the  days  of  Offian,  on  the  point  of  its  final  extinction  ; 
and,  for  particular  reafons,  odious  to  the  family  of  Fingal ; 
whilft  the  Chiiftian  faith  was  not  yet  eftabliflied.  But  had 
it  been  the  work  of  one,  to  whom  the  ideas  of  chriilianity 
were  familiar  from  his  infancy  ;  and  who  had  fuperadded 
to  them  alfo  the  bigotted  fuperftidon  of  a  dark  age  and 
country  ;  it  is  impoffible  but,  in  fome  palTage  or  other, 
the  traces  of  them  would  have  appeared.  The  other  cir- 
cuniitance  is,  the  entire  filence  which  reigns  with  refpe£i 
to  all  the  great  clans  or  families,  v/hich  are  now  eftablifn- 
ed  in  the  Highlands.  The  origin  of  thefe,  feveral  clans  is 
known  to  be  very  ancient  :  And  it  is  as  well  known,  that 
there  is  no  nafiion  bv  which  a  native  Highlander  is  more 
diftinguiflied,  than  by  attachment  to  his  clan,  and  jealoufy 
for  its  honour.  That  a  Highland  bard,  in  forging  a  work 
relating  to  the  antiquities  of  his  country,  fliould  have  in- 
ferted  no  circumftance  which  pointed  out  the  ri:e  of  his 
own  clan,  which  afcertained  its  antiquity,  or  incrcafedits 
glory,  is  of  all  fuppofitions  that  can  be  formed,  the  mod 
improbable ;  and  the  filence  on  this  head,  amounts  to  a 
demonftration  that  the  author  lived  before  any  of  the  pre- 
fent  great  clans  were  formed  or  known. 

Assuming  it  then,  as  we  well  may,  for  certain,  thr.t 
the  poems  now  under  confideration,  are  genuine  venerable 
monuments  of  very  remote  antiquity  ;  I  proceed  to  make 
fome  remarks  upon  their  general  fpirit  and  llrain. 

The  two  great  charattcriltics  of  Ofiian's  poetry  are, 
tendernefs  and  fublimity.  It  breathes  -nothing  of  tlie  gay 
and  chearful  kind  ;  an  air  of  folemnity  and  fcriouineis  is 
difFufed  over  the  whole.  OfTian  is  perhaps  the  only  poet 
who  never  relaxes,  or  lets  himfelf  down,  into  the  liglit  and 

amuling 


438     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

amufing  drain  ;  which  I  readily  admit  to  be  no  fmall  dif- 
advantage  to  him,  with  the  bulk  of  readers.  He  moves 
perpetually  in  the  high  region  of  the  grand  and  the  pa- 
thetick.  One  key  note  is  Itnick  at  the  beginning,  and  fup- 
ported  to  the  end  ;  nor  is  any  ornament  introduced,  but 
what  is  perfeftiy  concordant  with  the  general  tone  or  me- 
lody. The  events  recorded,  are  all  ferious  and  grave  ; 
the  fcenery  throughout,  wild  and  romantic.  The  extend- 
ed heath  by  the  fea-lhore  ;  the  mountain  fhaded  with  mid  ; 
the  torrent  rudiing  through  a  foiita,ry  valley ;  the  fcattered 
oaks,  and  the  tombs  of  warriors  overgrown  with  mofs ; 
all  produce  a  folemn  attention  in  the  mind,  and  prepare  it 
for  great  and  extraordinary  events.  We  find  not  in  Oflian, 
an  imagination  that  fports  itfelf,  and  drelfes  out  gay  trifles 
to  pleafe  the  fancy.  His  poetry,  more,  perhaps,  than  that 
of  any  other  writer,  deferves  to  be  diled.  The  Poetny  of 
the  Heart.  It  is  a  heart  penetrated  with  noble  fentiments, 
and  with  fublime  and  tender  paffions;  a  heart  that  glows, 
and  kindles  the  fancy;  a  heart  that  is  full,  and  pours  itfelf 
forth.  Odian  did  not  write,  like  modern  poets,  to  pleafe 
readers  and  critics.  He  fung  from  the  love  of  poetry  and 
fong.  His  delight  was  to  think  of  the  heroes  among  whom 
he  had  flouriflied  ;  to  recall  the  ad'efting  incidents  of  his 
life  ;  to  dwell  upon  his  pad  wars  and  loves  and  friend- 
iliips  ;  till,  as  he  exprelfes  it  himfelf,  "  there  comes  a 
''  voice  to  Offian  and  awakes  his  foul.  It  is  the  voice  of 
'-  years  that  are  gone ;  they  roil  before  me  with  all  their 
"  deeds ;"  and,  under  this  true  poetic  infpiration,  giving 
vent  to  his  genius,  no  wonder  we  diould  fo  often  hear 
and  acknowledge,  in  his  drains,  tJie  powerful  and  evcr- 
pleaiing  voice  of  nature. 

Arte,  natura  potentior  omni. — 

Ed  Deus  in  nobis,  agitante  calefcimus  illo. 

It  is  neceflary  here  to  obferve,  that  the  beauties  of  Of- 
fian's  writings  cannot  be  felt  by  thofe  who  have  given 
them  only  a  fmgle  or  a  hady  perufal.  His  manner  is  fo 
different  from  that  of  the  poets,  to  whom  Vv^e  are  mod  ac- 
cudomed  ;  his  dyle  is  fo  concife,  and  fo  much  crouded 
with  imagery;  the  mind  is  kept  in  fuch  a  dreich  in  accom- 
panying 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN. 


439 


panying  the  author ;  that  an  ordinary  reader  is  at  firft  apt 
to  be  dazzled  and  fatigued  rather  than  pleafed.  His  poems 
require  to  be  taken  up  at  intervals,  and  to  be  frequently 
reviewed ;  and  then  it  is  impoffible  but  his  beauties  mu(l 
open  to  every  reader  who  is  capable  of  fenfibility.  Thofe 
who  have  the  highefl  degree  of  it,  will  relifli  them  the 
mod'. 

As  Homer  is,  of  all  the  great  poets,  the  one  whofe  man- 
ner, and  M'hofe  times  come  the  neareft  to  Offian's,  we  are 
naturally  led  to  run  a  parallel,  in  fome  inflances,  between 
the  Greek  and  the  Celtic  bard.  For  though  Homer  lived 
more  than  a  thoufand  years  before  Ollian,  it  is  not  from 
the  age  of  the  world,  but  from  the  flate  of  fociety,  that 
we  are  to  judge  of  refembling  times.  The  Greek  has,  in 
feveral  points,  a  manifeft  fuperiority.  He  introduces  a 
greater  variety  of  incidents  ;  he  poflTeiTes  a  larger  compafs 
of  ideas  ;  has  more  diverfity  in  his  characters  ;  and  a  much 
deeper  knowledge  of  human  nature.  It  was  not  to  be  ex- 
pected, that  in  any  of  thefe  particulars,  Offian  could  equal 
Homer.  For  Homer  lived  in  a  country  where  fociety  was 
much  farther  advanced ;  he  had  beheld  many  more  ob- 
jects ;  cities  built  and  flourilliing  ;  laws  inftituted  ;  order, 
difcipline,  and  arts  begun.  His  field  of  obfervation  was 
much  larger  and  more  iplendid;  his  knowledge,  of  courfe, 
more  extenfive  ;  his  mind  alfo,  it  fiiall  be  granted,  more 
penetrating.  But  if  Offian's  ideas  and  objects  be  lefs  di- 
veifified  than  thofe  of  Homer,  they  are  all,  however,  of  the 
kind  fitted  for  poetry  ;  the  bravery  and  generofity  of  he- 
roes, the  tendernefs  of  lovers,  the  attachments  of  friends, 
parents,  and  children.  In  a  rude  age  and  country,  though 
the  events  that  happen  be  few,  the  undiffipated  mind 
broods  over  them  more ;  they  ftrike  the  imagination,  and 
fire  the  paffions  in  a  higher  degree  ;  and  of  confequence 
become  happier  materials  to  a  poetical  genius,  than  the 
fame  events  when  fcattered  through  the  wide  circle  of  more 
varied  a£tion,  and  cultivated  life. 

Homer  is  a  more  chearful  and  fprightly  poet  than  Of- 
fian. You  difcern  in  him  all  the  Greek  vivacity  ;  whereas 
Offian  uniformly  maintains  the  gravity  and  foiemnity  of  a 
Celtic  here.  This,  too,  is  in  a  great  meafure  to  be  accounted 

for 


440     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

for  from  the  different  fituations  In  which  they  lived,  partly 
perfonal,  and  partly  national.  Oflian  had  furvived  all  his 
friends,  and  was  difpofed  to  melancholy  by  the  incidents 
of  his  life.  But  befides  this,  chearfulnefs  is  one  of  the 
many  bleffings  which  we  owe  to  formed  fociety.  The  fo- 
litary  wild  ftate  is  always  a  ferious  one.  Bating  the  fud- 
den  and  violent  burfts  of  mirth,  which  fometimes  break 
forth  at  their  dances  and  fealls,  the  favage  American  tribes 
have  been  noted  by  all  travellers  for  their  gravity  and  ta- 
citurnity. Somewhat  of  this  taciturnity  may  be  alfo  re- 
marked in  Oliian.  On  all  occafions  he  is  frugal  of  his 
words  ;  and  never  gives  you  more  of  an  image,  or  a  de- 
fcription,  than  is  juft  fufficient  to  place  it  before  you  in 
one  clear  point  of  view.  It  is  a  blaze  of  lightning,  which 
flalhes  and  vaniflies.  Homer  is  more  extended  in  his  de- 
fer iptions  ;  and  fills  them  up  with  a  greater  variety  of  cir- 
cumftances.  Both  the  poets  are  dramatic  ;  that  is,  they 
introduce  their  perfonages  frequently  fpeaking  before  us. 
But  Oflian  is  concife  and  rapid  in  his  fpeeches,  as  he  is  in 
every  other  thing.  Homer,  with  the  Greek  vivacity,  had 
alfo  fome  portion  of  the  Greek  loquacity.  His  fpeeches  in- 
deed are  highly  charafteriftical  ;  and  to  them  we  are  much 
indebted  for  that  admirable  difplay  he  has  given  of  human 
nature.  Yet  if  he  be  tedious  any  where,  it  is  in  thefe ; 
fome  of  them  trifling ;  and  fome  of  them  plainly  unfea- 
fonable.  Both  poets  are  eminently  fublime  ;  but  a  differ- 
ence may  be  remarked  in  the  fpecies  of  their  fubiimity. 
Homer's  fubiimity  is  accompanied  with  more  impetuofity 
and  hre  ;  Ollian's  with  more  of  a  folemn  and  awful  gran- 
deur. Homier  hurries  you  along  ;  Oflian  elevates,  and 
fixes  y;)U  in  aftonilhment.  Homer  is  mod  fublime  in  ac- 
tions and  battles  ;  Offian,  in  defcription  and  fentiment. 
In  the  pathetick.  Homer,  when  he  chufes  to  exert  it, 
has  great  power  ;  but  Olfian  exerts  that  power  much  oft- 
ner,  and  has  the  character  of  tendernefs  far  more  deeply 
imprinted  on  his  works.  No  poet  knew  better  how 
to  feize  and  melt  the  heart.  With  regard  to  dignity  of 
fentiment,  the  pre-eminence  muil:  clearly  be  given  to  Of- 
lian. This,  indeed,  is  a  furprifmg  circumilance,  that  in 
point  of  humanity,  magnanimity,  virtuous  feelings  of  every 

kind, 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  441 

kind,  our  rude  Celtic  bard  fhould  be  diftinguifhed  to  fuch 
a  degree,  that  not  only  the  heroes  of  Homer,  but  even 
thole  of  the  polite  and  refined  Virgil,  are  left  far  behind 
by  thofe  of  Offian. 

After  thefe  general  obfervations  on  the  genius  and  fpi- 
rit  of  our  author,  I  now  proceed  to  a  nearer  view,  and 
more  accurate  examination  of  his  works:  and  as  Finoal 
is  the  firff  great  poem  in  this  collection,  it  is  proper  to  be- 
gin with  it.  To  refufe  the  title  of  an  epic  poem  to  Fingal, 
becaufe  it  is  not,  in  every  little  particular,  exactly  conform- 
able to  the  pradice  of  Hom.er  and  Virgil,  v\^ere  the  mere 
fqueamifhnefs  and  pedantry  of  criticifm.  Examined  even 
according  to  Ariftotle's  rules,  it  will  be  found  to  have  all 
the  eifential  requiiites  of  a  true  and  regular  epic  ;  and  to 
have  feveral  of  them  in  fo  high  a  degree,  as  at  firft  view 
to  raife  our  aPLonifliment  on  finding  Ollian's  compofition 
fo  agreeable  to  rules  of  which  he  was  entirely  ignorant. 
But  our  afi:oniiliment  will  ceafe,  when  we  confider  from 
what  fource  Ariftotle  drew  thofe  rules.  Homer  knew  no 
more  of  the  laws  of  criticifm  than  OUian  ;  but  guided  by 
nature,  he  cofupofed  in  vei  fe  a  regular  ftory,  founded  oij. 
heroic  adtions,  which  all  pofterity  admired.  Ariflotle, 
with  great  fagacity  and  penetration,  traced  the  caufe  of 
this  general  admiration.  He  obferved  what  it  was  in  Ho- 
mer's compofition,  and  in  the  condu6l  of  his  flory,  which. 
gave  it  fuch  power  to  pleafe  ;  from  this  obfervation  he  de- 
duced the  rules  which  poets  ought  to  follow,  who  would 
write  and  pleafe  like  Homer ;  and  to  a  compofition  form- 
ed according  to  fuch  rules,  he  gave  the  name  of  an  epic 
poem.  Hence  his  whole  fyftem  arofe.  Ariflotle  ftudicd 
nature  In  Homer.  Homer  and  OfTian  both  wrote  from 
nature.  No  wonder  that  among  all  the  three,  there  fhould 
be  fuch  agreement  and  conformity. 

The  fundamental  rules  delivered  by  Ariflotle  concern- 
ing an  epic  poem,  are  thefe:  That  the  action  which  is  the 
ground  work  of  the  poem,  fhould  be  one,  complete,  and 
great ;  that  it  fhould  be  feigned,  not  merely  hilloricai  ; 
that  it  fliould  be  enlivened  with  characters  and  manners  ; 
and  heightened  by  the  marvellous. 

But  before  entering  on  any  of  thefe.  It  may  perhaps 

K  k  k  be 


442     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

be  aficed,  what  Is  the  moral  of  FIngal  ?  For,  according  to 
M.  Boflii,  an  epic  poem  is  no  other  than  an  allegory  con- 
trived to  illuftrate  Ibme  moral  truth.  The  poet,  fays  this 
critic,  mud  begin  with  fixing  on  fome  maxim,  or  inftruc- 
tion,  which  he  intends  to  inculcate  on  mankind.  He  next 
forms  a  fable,  like  one  of  iEfop's,  wholly  with  a  view  to 
the  mxoral ;  and  having  thus  fettled  and  arranged  his  plan, 
he  then  looks  into  traditionary  hiilory  for  names  and  in- 
cidents, to  give  his  fable  fome  air  of  probability.  Never 
did  a  more_ frigid,  pedantic  notion,  enter  into  the  mind  of 
a  critic.  We  may  fafeiy  pronounce,  that  he  who  fliould 
compofe  an  epic  poem  after  this  manner,  who  fliould 
firft  lay  down  a  moral  and  contrive  a  plan,  before  he  had 
thought  of  his  perfonagcs  and  adors,  might  deliver,  in- 
deed, very  found  inftrutlion,  but  would  find  few  readers. 
There  cannot  be  the  leafl  doubt,  that  the  firfl  objeft  which 
ftrikes  an  epic  poet,  which  fires  his  genius,  and  gives  him 
any  idea  of  his  work,  is  the  aclion  or  fubjeft  he  is  to  cele- 
brate. Hardly  is  there  any  tale,  any  fubjecl  a  poet  can 
chufe  for  fuch  a  Vv^ork,  but  vvill  afford  fome  general  moral 
inftrudion.  An  epic  poem  is,  by  Its  nature,  one  of  the 
mofl  moral  of  all  poetical  compofitlons ;  but  its  moral 
tendency  is  by  no  means  to  be  limited  to  fome  common- 
place maxim,  which  may  be  gathered  from  the  flory.  It 
arifes  from  the  admiration  of  heroic  a6f:ions,  which  fuch 
a  compofition  is  peculiarly  calculated  to  produce  ;  from 
the  virtuous  emotions  which  the  charafters  and  incidents 
raife,  whilil  we  read  it ;  from  the  happy  impreffion  which 
all  the  parts  feparately,  as  well  as  the  whole  taken  toge- 
ther, leave  upon  the  mind.  Hov/ever,  if  a  general  moral 
he  flill  infiited  on,  FIngal  obvioufly  furnifhes  one,  not  in- 
ferior to  that  of  any  other  poet,  viz.  That  Wifdom  and 
Bravery  always  triumph  over  brutal  force  :  or  another 
nobler  ffill  ;  That  the  mofl  compleat  vidory  over  an  ene- 
my is  obtained  by  that  moderation  and  generofity  which 
convert  him  into  a  friend. 

The  unity  of  the  epic  adion,  which,  of  all  Arlftotle's 
rules,  is  the  chief  and  moft  material,  is  fo  flriclly  preferv- 
ed  in  FIngal,  that  it  mufl  be  perceived  by  every  reader. 
It  is  a  more  compleat  unity  than  what  arifes  from  relating 

the 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         Z143 

the  actions  of  orxe  man,  which  the  Greek  critic  juflly  cen- 
fures  as  iraperfeit  ;  it  is  the  unity  of  one  enterprize,  the 
deliverance  of  Ireland  from  the  invafion  of  Swaran  :  an 
enterprize,  which  has  furely  the  full  heroic  dignity.  All 
the  incidents  recorded  bear  a  conilant  reference  to  one 
end  ;  no  double  plot  is  carried  on  ;  but  the  parts  unite 
into  a  regular  whole  :  and  a-s  the  aclion  is  one  and  great, 
fo  it  is  an  entire  or  compleat  action.  For  we  find,  as  the 
critic  farther  requires,  a  beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end  ; 
a  Nodus,  or  intrigue,  in  the  poem  ;  difficulties  occurring 
through  Cuthullin's  raOmefs  and  bad  fuccefs  ;  thofe  diffi- 
culties gradually  furmounted  ;  and  at  lad  the  work  con- 
ducted to  that  happy  conclufion  which  is  held  effential  to 
Epic  Poetry.  Unity  is  indeed  obferved  with  greater  ex- 
aftnefs  in  Fingal,  than  in  almofl:  any  other  Epic  compofi- 
tion ;  for,  not  only  is  unity  of  fubjeQ:  maintained,  but 
that  of  time  and  place  alfo.  The  Autumn  Is  clearly  point- 
ed out  as  the  feafon  of  the  adtion  ;  and  from  beginning  to 
end  the  fcene  is  never  fnifted  from  the  heath  of  Lena,  along 
the  fea-fnore.  The  duration  of  the  action  in  Fingal,  is 
much  fhorter  than  in  the  Iliad  or  ^neid.  But,  fure,  there 
may  befliorter  as  well  as  longer  heroic  poems ;  and  if  the 
authority  of  ArlSfotle  be  alfo  required  for  this,  he  fays  ex- 
prelly  that  the  epic  compofition  is  indefinite  as  to  the  time 
of  its  duration.  Accordingly,  the  action  of  the  Iliad  hits 
only  forty-feven  days,  whilft  that  of  the  iEneid  is  conti- 
nued for  more  than  a  year. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  Fingal,  there  reigns  that 
grandeur  of  fentiment,  ftyle,  and  imagery,  which  ought 
ever  to  diflinguifli  this  high  fpecies  of  poetry.  The  ftory 
is  conducted  with  no  fmall  art.  The  poet  goes  not  back 
to  a  tedious  recital  of  the  beginning  of  the  w^ar  with  Swa- 
ran ;  but  haftening  to  the  main  aftion,  he  falls  In  exactly, 
by  a  moil  happy  coincidence  of  thought,  with  the  rule 
nof  Horace, 

Semper  ad  eventum  feflinat,  &  In  medias  res, 
Non  fecus  ac  notas,  auditorem  rapit- 


Nec  gemino  bellum  Trojanum  ordiair  ab  ovo. 

De  Arte  P.oet. 


He 


444-    A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

He  invokes  no  mufe,  for  he  acknowledged  none  ;  but 
his  occafional  addreffes  to  Malvina,  have  a  finer  efFed; 
than  the  invocation  of  any  mufe.  He  fets  out  with  no 
formal  propofition  of  his  fubjecl ;  but  the  fubject  natu- 
rally and  eafily  unfolds  itfelf ;  the  poem  opening  in  an  ani- 
mated manner,  with  the  fituation  of  CuthuUin,  and  the 
arrival  of  a  fcout  who  informs  him  of  Swaran's  landing. 
Mention  is  prefently  made  of  Fingal,  and  of  theexpefted 
affi({:ance  from  the  ihips  of  the  lonely  ille,  in  order  to  give 
further  light  to  the  fubjeft.  For  the  poet  often  fhows  his 
addrefs  in  gradually  preparing  us  for  the  events  he  is  to 
introduce  ;  and,  in  particular,  the  preparation  foi  the  ap- 
pearance of  Fingal,  the  previous  expectations  that  are 
raifed,  and  the  extreme  magnificence  fully  anfwering  thole 
expectations,  with  which  the  hero  is  at  length  prefented  to 
us,  are  all  worked  up  with  fuch  Ikilful  condud:  as  would 
do  honour  to  any  poet  of  the  moft  refined  times.  Homer's 
art  in  magnifying  the  charafter  of  Achilles  has  been  uni- 
verfally  admired.  OfTian  certainly  fliews  no  lefs  art  in  ag- 
grandizing Fingal.  Nothing  could  be  more  happily  ima- 
gined for  this  purpofe  than  the  whole  management  of  the' 
laft  battle,  wherein  Gaul,  the  fon  of  Morni,  had  befought 
Fingal  to  retire,  and  to  leave  to  him  and  his  other  chiefs 
the  honour  of  the  day.  The  generofity  of  the  king  in 
agreeing  to  this  propofal  ;  the  majefty  with  which  he  re- 
treats to  the  hill,  from  whence  he  was  to  behold  the  en- 
gagement, attended  by  his  bards,  and  waving  the  light- 
ning of  his  fword  ;  his  perceiving  the  chiefs  overpowered 
by  numbers,  but,  from  unwillingnefs  to  deprive  them  of 
the  glorv  of  victory  by  coming  in  perfon  to  their  afTift- 
ance,  firil  fending  Ullin,  the  bard,  to  animate  their  cou- 
rage ;  arid,  at  lall,  when  the  danger  becomes  more  pref- 
iing,  his  rifmg  in  his  might,  anil  interpofmg,  like  a  divi- 
nity, to  decide  the  doubtful  fate  of  the  day ;  are  all  cir- 
cum.ilances  contrived  with  fo  much  art,  as  plainly  difcover 
the  Celtic  bards  to  have  been  not  unpraCtifed  in  Heroic 
poetry. 

The  llory  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  Iliad  is  in  it- 
felf as  fnnple  as  that  of  Fingal.  A  quarrel  arifes  between 
Achilles  and  Agamemnon  concerning  a  female  Have ;  on 

which, 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  445 

which,  Achilles,  apprehending  himfclf  to  be  injured,  vvith- 
draws  his  afliitance  from  the  rell  of  the  Greeks.  The 
Greeks  fall  into  great  diftrefs,  and  befeech  hiiu  to  be  re- 
conciled to  them.  He  refufes  to  fight  for  them  in  penon, 
but  fends  his  friend  Patroclus  ;  and,  upon  his  being  fiain, 
goes  forth  to  revenge  his  death,  and  kills  Heccor.  The 
lubjed  of  Finqal  is  this :  Swaran  comes  to  invade  Ire- 
land :  Cuthullin,  the  guardian  ef  the  young  king,  had  ap- 
plied for  aififtance  to  Fingal,  who  reigned  in  the  oppofite 
coaft  of  Scotland.  But,  before  Fingal's  arrival,  he  is 
hurried  by  raih  counfel  to  encounter  Swaran.  He  is  de- 
feated ;  he  retreats  ;  and  defponds.  Fingal  arrives  in  this 
conjuncture.  The  battle  is  for  fome  time  dubious  ;  but 
in  the  end  he  conquers  Swaran  ;  and  the  remembrance  of 
Swaran's  being  the  brother  of  Agandecca,  who  had  once 
faved  his  life,  makes  him  difmifs  him  honourably.  Ho- 
mer, it  is  true,  has  filled  up  his  llory  with  a  much  greater 
variety  of  particulars  than  Oilian  ;  and  in  this  has  Ihewn 
a  compafs  of  invention  luperior  to  that  of  the  other  poet. 
But  it  muft  not  be  forgotten,  that  though  Homer  be  more 
circumllantial,  his  incidents  however  are  lefs  diverfified 
in  kind  than  thofe  of  Offian.  War  and  bloodfhed  reign 
throughout  the  Iliad  ;  and,  notwithftanding  all  the  ferti- 
lity of  Homer's  invention,  there  is  fo  much  unirormity  in 
his  fabjeds,  that  there  are  fevv'  readers,  who,  before  the 
clofe,  are  not  tired  of  perpetual  fighting.  Whereas,  ^n 
Offian,  the  mind  is  relieved  by  a  more  agreeable  diverl;ty. 
There  is  a  finer  mixture  of  v\^ar  and  lieroifm,  with  love  and 
frienddiip,  of  martial,  with  tender  fcenes,  than  is  to  be 
met  v/idi,  perhaps,  in  any  other  poet,  The  epifodes,  too, 
have  great  propriety  ;  as  natural,  and  proper  to  that  age 
and  country  ;  confifling  of  the  longs  of  bards,  vv^hich  are 
known  to  have  been  the  great  entGrtainment  of  the  Celtic 
heroes  in  war,  as  v/ell  as  in  peace.  Thefe  fongs  are  not 
introduced  at  random  ;  if- you  except  the  epifode  of  Du- 
chomar  and  Morna  in  the  firft  book,  v/hich,  tho'  beautiful, 
is  more  unartful  than  any  of  the  reft  ;  they  have  always 
fome  particular  relation  to  the  after  xyho  is  interefted,  or 
to  the  events  which  are  going  on  ;  and,  whilll  they  vary 
the  fcene,  they  preferve  a  fuflicient  corinedion  with  the 

main 


44S     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

main  fubjed,  by  the  fitnefs  and  propriety  of  their  intro- 
duction. 

As  Fingal's  love  to  Agandecca,  influences  fome  circum- 
ftances  of  the  poem,  particularly  the  honourable  difmiiTion 
of  Swaran  at  the  end ;  it  was  necelTary  that  we  fliould  be 
let  into  this  part  of  the  hero's  (lory.  But  as  it  lay  without 
the  compafs  of  the  prefent  aftion,  it  could  be  regularly  in- 
troduced no  where,  except  in  an  epifode.  Accordingly 
the  poet,  with  as  much  propriety,  as  if  Ariflotle  himlelf 
had  directed  the  plan,  has  contrived  an  epifode  for  this 
purpofe  in  the  fong  of  Carril,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
third  book. 

.  The  conclufion  of  the  poem  is  ftriclly  according  to 
rule  ;  and  is  every  way  noble  and  pleafnig.  The  reconci- 
liation of  the  contending  heroes,  the  confolation  of  Cu- 
thullin,  and  the  general  felicity  that  crowns  the  action, 
footh  the  mind  in  a  very  agreeable  manner,  and  form  that 
paffage  from  agitation  and  trouble,  to  perfeft  quiet  and 
repole,  which  critics  require  as  the  proper  termination  of 
the  epic  work.  "  Thus  they  paffed  the  night  in  fong,  and 
'*  brought  back  the  morning  with  joy.  Fingal  arofe  on 
*'  the  heath ;  and  fliook  his  glittering  fpear  in  his  hand. 
"  He  moved  firft  towards  the  plains  of  Lena  ;  and  we  fol- 
"  lowed  like  a  ridge  of  fire.  Spread  the  fail,  faid  the  king 
*^  of  Morven,  and  catch  the  winds  that  pour  from  Lena. 
*'  — We  rofe  on  the  wave  with  fongs  ;  and  rulhed  with 
"  joy  through  the  foam  of  the  ocean."— So  much  for  the 
unity  and  general  conduQ;  of  the  Epic  action  in  Fingal. 

With  regard  to  that  property  of  the  fubjedt  v/hich  Ari- 
ilotle  requires,  that  it  iliould  be  feigned,  not  hiftorical,  he 
muft  not  be  underitood  fo  ftridly,  as  if  he  meant  to  exclude 
all  fubjecls  which  have  any  foundation  in  truth.  For  fuch 
cxclufion  would  both  be  unieafonable  in  itfelf ;  and  what 
is  more,  would  be  contrary  to  the  pradlice  of  Homer,  who 
is  known  to  have  founded  his  Iliad  on  hiftorical  fafts  con- 
cerning the  war  of  Troy,  which  was  famous  throughout 
all  Greece.  Ariflotle  means  no  more  than  that  it  is  the 
bufinefs  of  a  poet  not  to  be  a  mere  annalift  of  facts,  but 
to  embelliOi  truth  with  beautiful,  probable,  and  ufeful  fic- 
tions ;  to  copy  nature,  as  he  himfelf  explains  it,  like  paint- 
ers. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         447 

ers,  who  preferve  a  likenefs,  but  exhibit  their  objects  morr 
grand  and  beautiful  than  they  are  in  reality.  That  Ofiian 
has  followed  this  courfe,and  building  upon  true  hiftorVjhas 
fufficiently  adorned  it  with  poetical  fiction  for  aggrandizing 
his  characters,  and  fafts,  will  not,  I  believe,  be  queflioned 
by  mod  readers.  At  the  fame  time,  the  foundation  which 
thofe  facts  and  characters  had  in  truth,  and  the  fliare  which 
the  poet  himfeif  had  in  the  tranfa£tions  which  he  records, 
mufl  be  conndered  as  no  fmall  advantage  to  his  work. 
For  truth  makes  an  imprellion  on  the  mind  far  beyond  any 
fiction;  and  no  man,  let  his  imagination  be  ever  fo  flrong^ 
relates  any  events  fo  feelingly  as  thofe  in  which  he  has 
been  interefled ;  paints  any  fcene  fo  naturally  as  one  which 
he  has  feen ;  or  draws  any  characters  in  fuch  ftrong  co- 
lours as  thofe  which  he  has  perfonally  known.  It  is  con- 
fidered  as  an  advantage  of  the  epic  iubject,  to  be  taken 
from  a  period  fo  diltant,  as  by  being  involved  in  the  dark- 
nefs  of  tradition,  may  give  licence  to  fable.  Though  Of- 
iian's  fubjeft  may  at  firft  view  appear  unfavourable  in  this 
refpeft,  as  being  taken  from  his  own  times,  yet  when  we 
refleft  that  he  lived  to  an  extreme  old  age;  that  he  relates 
what  had  been  tranfacted  in  another  country,  at  the  dif- 
tance  of  many  years,  and  after  all  that  race  of  men  who 
had  been  the  aftors  were  gone  off  the  ftage  ;  we  fliali  find 
the  objection  in  a  great  meafure  obviated.  In  fo  rude  au 
age,  when  no  written  records  were  known,  when  tradition 
was  loofe,  and  accuracy  of  any  kind  little  attended  to, 
what  was  great  and  heroic  in  one  generation,  eafily  ripen- 
ed into  the  marvellous  in  the  next. 

The  natural  reprefentation  of  human  characters  in  an 
Epic  Poem  is  highly  cfiential  to  its  merit :  And  in  refpecl 
of  this  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  Homer's  excelling  all  the 
heroic  poets  who  have  ever  wrote.  But  though  OiTian  be 
much  inferior  to  Homer  in  this  article,  he  will  be  found 
to  be  equal  at  lead,  if  not  fuperior,  to  Virgil ;  and  has  ii^- 
deed  given  all  the  difplay  of  human  nature  which  the  fimplc 
occurrences  of  his  times  could  be  expected  to  furnifii.  Ko 
dead  uniformity  of  character  prevails  in  Fingal ;  but  on 
the  contrary  the  principal  charafters  are  not  only  clearly 
diftinguifhed,  but  fometimes  artfully  contrafted,  fo  as  to 

iilullratc 


448     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

illuflrate  each  "other.  Offiair*s  heroes  are,  like  Homer's, 
all  brr-ve;  but  iheir  bravery,  like  thofe  of  Homer's  too, 
is  of  different  kinds.  For  inftance  ;  the  prudent,  the  fe- 
date,  the  modell  and  circumfpe£t  Connal,  is  finely  oppofed 
to  the  prefumptuous,  rafli,  overbearing,  but  gallant  and 
generous  Calmar.  Calmar  hurries  Cuthullin  into  action 
by  his  temerity  ;  and  when  he  fees  the  bad  eii'eft  of  his 
coimfel,'^,  he  v/ill  not  fiirvive  the  difgrace.  Connal,  like 
another  Ulyffes,  attends  Cuthullin  to  his  retreat,  counfels, 
and  comforts  him  under  his  misfortune.  The  fierce,  the 
proud,  and  high-fpirited  Swaran  is  admirably  contrafled 
with  the  calm,  the  moderate,  and  generous  Fingal.  The 
character  of  Ofcar  is  a  favourite  one  throughout  the  whole 
poems.  The  amiable  warmth  of  the  young  warrior  ;  his 
eager  impetuofily  in  the  day  of  aftion  ;  his  paflion  for 
fame  ;  his  fubniiffion  to  his  father  ;  his  tendernefs  for 
Malvina  ;  are  the  ftrokes  of  a  mafterly  pencil  :  the  flrokes 
are  few  ;  but  it  is  the  hand  of  nature,  and  attrads  the 
heart.  Offian's  own  character,  the  old  man,  the  hero, 
and  the  bard,  all  in  one,  prefcnts  to  us,  through  the  whole 
work,  a  moil  reipeftable  and  venerable  figure,  which  we 
aivv^ays  contemplate  with  pleafure.  Cuthullin  is  a  hero  of 
the  highefl  clafs  ;  daring,  magnanimous,  and  exquifitely 
fenfible  to  honour.  '  We  become  attached  to  his  intereli, 
and  are  deeply  touched  with  his  diftrefs  ;  and,  after  the 
admiration  raifed  for  him_  in  the  firft  part  of  the  poem,  it 
is  a  ftrong  proof  of  Oiiian's  maflerly  genius  that  he  durfl 
adventure  to  produce  to  us  another  hero,  compared  with 
whom,  even  the  great  Cuthullin  fhould  be  only  an  inferior 
perionage  ;  and  who  iliould  rife  as  far  above  him,  as  Cu- 
thuilin  rifes  above  the  reft. 

IIerf,  indeed,  in  the  charafter  and  clefcription  of  Fin- 
gal, Oiiian  triumphs  almoft  unrivalled :  For  we  may  boldly 
defy  all  antiquity  to  fnew  us  any  hero  equal  to  Fingal. 
Homer's  Heclor  poffeffes  feveral  great  and  amiable  quali- 
ties ;  but  Hetlor  is  a  fecondary  perfonage  in  the  Iliad,  not 
the  hero  of  the  vv-ork.  We  fee  him  only  occafionally  ;  we 
know  much  lefs  of  him  than  we  do  of  Fingal  ;  who,  not 
only  in  this  Epic  Poem,  but  in  Temora,  and  throughout 
the  reft  of  Offian's  works,  is  prefented  in  all  that  variety 

of 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSS  IAN.         449 

• 

of  lights,  which  give  the  full  difplay  of  a  chavader.  And 
though  Hedor  faithfully  difcharges  his  duty  to  his  coun- 
try, his  friends,  and  his  family,  he  is  tindured,  hov/ever, 
with  a  degree  ot  the  fame  favage  ferocity,  which  prevails 
among  all  the  Homeric  heroes.  For  we  find  him  infultino' 
over  the  fallen  Patroclus,  with  the  moft  cruel  taunts,  and 
telling  him,  when  he  lies  in  the  agony  of  death,  that  Achil- 
les cannot  help  him  now  ;  and  that  in  a  fliort  time  his  bo- 
dy, itripped  naked,  and  deprived  of  funeral  honours,  fliall 
be  devoured  by  the  vultures*.  Whereas,  in  the  charaftei' 
of  Fingal,  concur  almolt  all  the  qualities  that  can  ennoble 
human  nature  ;  that  can  either  make  us  admire  the  hero, 
or  love  the  man.  He  is  not  only  unconquerable  in  war, 
but  he  makes  his  people  happy  by  his  wifdom  in  the  days 
of  peace.  He  is  truly  the  father  of  his  people.  He  is 
known  by  the  epithet  of  '•  Fingal  of  the  mildeft  look  ;" 
and  diftinguiflied,  on  every  occafion,  by  humanity  and 
generofity.  He  is  merciful  to  his  foes| ;  full  of  aileclion 
to  his  children  ;  full  of  concern  about  his  friends  ;  and 
never  mentions  Agandecca,  his  firft  love,  without  the  ut- 
moll  tendernefs.  He  is  the  univerfal  proteftor  of  the  dif- 
treifed  ;  "  None  ever  went  fad  from  Fingal." — "  O  Of- 
"  car  !  bend  the  flrong  in  arms  ;  but  fpare  the  feeble 
"  hand.  Be  thou  a  ftream  of  many  tides  agalnft  the  foes 
"  of  thy  people  ;  but  like  the  gale  that  moves  the  grafs, 
"  to  thofe  who  aftv  thine  aid-  So  Trenmor  lived  ;  fuch 
"  Trathal  was  ;  and  fuch  has  Fingal  been.  My  arm  was 
'•  the  fupport  of  the  injured  ;  the  weak  refled  behind  the 
"  lightning  of  my  fleel." — Thefe  were  the  maxims  of 
true  heroifm,  to  which  he  formed  his  grandfon.  His 
fame  is  leprefented  as  every  where  fprcad  ;  the  greateit 
heroes  acknowledge  his  fuperiority  ;  his  enemies  tremble 
at  his  name  j  and  the  higheft  encomium  that  can  be  be- 

L  1  1  flowed 

^  *  Iliad  xvi.  830.  II.  xvii.  127. 

+  When  he  commands  his  Ions,  after  Swaran  is  taken  prifoncr,  to  "  nuiTue 
"  the  reft  of  Lochlin,  over  the  heath  of  Lena  ;  that  no  veffel  may  hereafter  bound 
"  on  the  dark-rolling  waves  of  IniOoic  ;"  he  means  not  aflurctlly,  as  loine  linve 
m  freprefented  him,  to  order  a  gener;.^!  l!?.u::^hter.of  the  foes,  and  to  prcv.-nt  their  ■ 
faving  thcmfelve.?  by  flight  ;  but,  like  a  wifi;  general,  he  conrmands  nis  chiefs  to 
render  the  viftory  complete,  by  a  total  loiu.  of  the  enemy  ;  that  they  might  ad- 
venture no  more,  for  the  future,  to  hi  out  any  fleet  again:!  him  or  his  allies. 


4^o      A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

llowed  on  one  whom  the  poet  would  moil  exalt,  is  to  fav, 
that  his  foul  was  like  the  foul  of  Fingal. 

To  do  juftice  to  the  poet's  merit,  m  fupporting  fuch  a 
character  as  this,  I  muft  obferve,  what  is  not  commonly  at- 
tended to,  that  there  is  no  part  of  poetical  execution  more 
difficult,  than  to  draw  a  perfect  characler  in  fuch  a  manner, 
as  to  render  it  diftincL  and  aiFefting  to  the  mind.  Some 
ftrokes  of  human  imperfection  and  frailty,  are  what  ufually 
give  us  the  rnofl  clear  viev/,  and  the  moil  fenfible  impref- 
fion  of  a  charader  ;  becauie  they  prefent  to  us  a  man,  fuch 
as  we  have  feen  ;  they  recall  known  features  of  human 
nature.  When  poets  attempt  to  go  beyond  this  range, 
and  defcribe  a  faultlefs  hero,  they,  for  the  moil  part,  fet 
before  us  a  fort  of  vague  undiftinguiiliable  charafter,  fuch 
as  the  imagination  cannot  lay  hold  of,  or  realize  to  itfelf, 
as  the  object  of  aifection.  We  know  how  much  Virgil 
has  failed  in  this  particular.  His  perfect  hero,  ^neas,  is 
an  unanimated,  infipid  peribnage,  whom  we  may  pretend 
to  admire,  but  whom  no  one  can  heartily  love.  But  what 
Virgil  has  failed  in,  Offian,  to  our  ailoniiliment,  has  fuc- 
cefsfully  executed.  His  Fingal,  though  exhibited  without 
any  of  the  common  human  failings,  is  neverthelefs  a  real 
man  ;  a  character  which  touches  and  interefts  every  rea- 
der. To  this  it  has  much  contributed,  that  the  poet  has 
reprefented  him  as  an  old  man ;  and  by  this  has  gained 
the  advantage  of  throwing  around  him  a  great  many  cir- 
cumilances,  peculiar  to  that  age,  which  paint  him  to  the 
fancy  in  a  more  diflinft  light.  He  is  furrounded  with  his 
family  ;  he  initrudts  his  children  in  the  principles  of  vir- 
tue ;  he  is  narrative  of  his  pail  exploits ;  he  is  venerable 
with  the  grey  locks  of  age  ;  he  is  frequently  difpofed  to 
moralize,  like  an  old  man,  on  human  vanity  and  the  prof- 
pe6t  of  death.  There  is  more  art,  at  leail  more  felicity,  in 
this,  than  may  at  iiril  be  imagined.  For  youth  and  old 
age,  are  the  tv/o  ilates  of  human  life,  capable  of  being 
placed  in  the  moil  piclurefque  lights.  Middle  age  is  more 
general  and  vague  ;  and  has  fewer  clrcumitances  peculiar 
to  the  idea  of  it.  And  when  any  object  is  in  a  fituation, 
that  admits  it  to  be  rei^ered  particular,  and  to  be  clothed 

with 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         451 

with  a  variety  of  circumftances,  it  always  (Lancls  out  more 
clear  and  full  in  poetical  defcription. 

Besides  human  perfonages,  divine  or  fupernatural  a- 
gents  are  often  introduced  into  epic  poetry  ;  forming  what 
is  called  the  machinery  of  it  ;  which  moft  critics  hold  to 
be  an  eflential  part.  The  marvellous,  it  muft  be  admitted, 
has  always  a  great  charm  for  the  bulk  of  readers.  It  gra- 
tifies the  imagination,  and  affords  room  for  ftrikinp-  and 
fublime  defcription.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that  all  poets 
fhould  have  a  flrong  propenfity  tovv^ards  it.  But  I  muit 
obferve,  that  nothing  is  more  difficult,  than  to  adjull  pro- 
perly the  marvellous  with  the  probable.  If  a  poet  facri- 
fice  probability,  and  fill  his  work  with  extravagant  fuper- 
natural fcenes,  he  fpreads  over  it  an  appearance  of  romance 
and  childifh  fiftion  ;  he  tranfports  his  readers  from  thi,s 
world,  into  a  fantaftic,  vifionary  region ;  and  lofes  that 
weight  and  dignity  which  fhould  reign  in  epic  poetry. 
No  work,  from  which  probability  is  altogether  banifhed, 
can  make  a  lafling  or  deep  impreflion.  Human  actions 
and  manners,  are  always  the  moft  interelting  objefts  vx^hich 
can  be  prefented  to  a  human  mind.  All  machinery,  there- 
fore, is  faulty,  which  withdraws  thefe  too  much  from  view, 
or  obfcures  them  under  a  cloud  of  incredible  fiftions.  Be- 
fides  being  temperately  employed,  machinery  ought  al- 
ways to  have  fome  foundation  in  popular  belief.  A  poet 
is  by  no  means  at  liberty  to  invent  what  fyflein  of  the  mar- 
vellous he  pleafes  :  he  mufl  avail  himfelf  either  of  the  re- 
ligious faith,  or  the  fuperflitious  credulity,  of  the  country 
wherein  he  lives  ;  lo  as  to  give  an  air  of  probability  to 
events  which  are  moft  contrary  to  the  common  couri'e  of 
nature. 

In  thefe  refpeds,  OfTian  appears  to  mc  to  have  been  re- 
markably happy.  He  has  indeed  followed  the  fame  courfe 
with  Homer.  For  it  is  perfectly  abfurd  to  imagine,  as 
fome  critics  have  done,  that  Homer's  mythology  was  in- 
vented by  him,  in  confequence  of  perfonal  refiedions  on 
the  benefit  it  would  yield  to  poetry.  Homer  was  no  fuch 
refining  genius.  He  found  the  traditionary  ftories  on 
which  he  built  his  Iliad,  mingled  with  popular  legends, 
concerning  the  intervention  of  the  gods  j  and  he  adopted 

thefe, 


452     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on, 

there,  becaufe  they  amufed  the  fancy.  Offian,  in  like 
manner,  found  the  tales  of  his  country  full  of  ghofts  and 
fpirits  :  it  is  likely  he  believed  them  himfelf ;  and  he  in- 
troduced them,  becaufe  they  gave  his  poems  that  folemn 
and  marvellous  caft,  which  fuited  his  genius.  This  was 
the  only  machinery  he  could  employ  with  propriety  ;  be- 
caufe it  was  the  only  intervention  of  fupernaturai  beings, 
which  agreed  with  the  common  belief  of  the  country.  It 
was  happy,  becaufe  it  did  not  interfere  in  the  leaft  with 
the  proper  difplay  of  human  charafters  and  actions  ;  be- 
caufe it  had  lefs  of  the  incredible,  than  mod  other  kinds 
of  poetical  machinery ;  and  becaufe  it  ferved  to  diverfify 
the  fcene,  and  to  heighten  the  fubje^t  by  an  awful  gran- 
deur, which  is  the  great  defign  of  machinery. 

As  Oflian's  mythology  is  peculiar  to  himfelf,  and  makes 
a  confiderable  figure  in  his  other  poems,  as  well  as  in 
Fingal,  it  may  be  proper  to  make  fome  obfervations  on 
it,  independent  of  its  fubferviency  to  epic  compofition. 
It  turns  for  the  moil  part  on  the  appearances  of  departed 
fpirits.  Thefe,  confonantly  to  the  notions  of  every  rude 
age,  are  reprefented  not  as  purely  immaterial,  but  as  thin, 
airy  forms,  which  can  be  vifible  or  invifible  at  pleafure  ; 
their  voice  is  feeble  ;  their  arm  is  weak  ;  but  they  are  en- 
dowed with  knowledge  more  than  human.  In  a  feparate 
ftate,  they  retain  the  fame  difpofitions  which  animated 
them  in  this  life.  They  ride  on  the  wind  ;  they  bend 
their  airy  bows  ;  and  purfue  deer  formed  of  clouds.  The 
ghofts  of  departed  bards  continue  to  fmg.  The  ghofts  of 
departed  heroes  frequent  the  fields  of  their  former  fame. 
"  They  refl  together  in  their  caves,  and  talk  of  mortal 
"  men.  Their  fongs  are  of  other  worlds.  They  come 
""  fometimes  to  the  ear  of  refl,  and  raife  their  feeble  voice." 
All  this  prefents  to  us  much  the  fame  fet  of  ideas,  con- 
cerning fpirits,  as  we  find  in  the  eleventh  book  of  the 
Odylfey,  where  Ulyiles  vifits  the  regions  of  the  dead  : 
And  in  the  twenty-third  book  of  the  Iliad,  the  ghoff  of 
Patroclus,  after  appearing  tj  Achilles,  vaniflies  precifely 
like  one  of  OfTian's,  emitting  a  flirill,  feeble  cry,  and 
melting  away  like  fmoke. 

But  though  Homer's  and  OfTian's  ideas  concerning 

ghoffs 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  453 

ghofts  were  of  the  fame  nature,  v.e  cannot  but  obfcrve, 
that  Offian's  ghofts  are  drawn  with  much  ilronger  and 
livelier  colours  than  thofe  of  Homer.  Olilan  defcribes 
ghofts  with  all  the  particularity  of  one  who  had  feen  and 
converfed  with  them,  and  whofe  im.agination  was  full  of 
the  impreiTion  they  had  left  upon  it.  He  calls'iip  thofe 
awful  and  tremendous  ide.is  whicii  the 

Simulacra  modis  pallentia  miris, 

are  fitted  to  raife  in  the  human  mind  ;  and  which,  in 
Shakefpear's  ftyle,  "  harrow  up  the  foul.'*  Crugaj'y  ghoft, 
in  particular,  in  the  beginning  of  the  fecond  book  of  Fin- 
gal,  may  vie  with  any  appearance  of  this  kind,  defcribed 
by  any  epic  or  tragic  poet  whatever.  Mod  poets  v.'ould 
have  contented  themfeives  with  telling  us,  that  he  refem- 
bled,  in  every  particular,  the  living  Crugal ;  that  his  ibrm 
and  drefs  were  the  fame,  only  his  face  more  pale  and  fad; 
and  that  he  bore  the  mark  of  the  wound  by  which  he  fell. 
But  Ollian  fets  before  our  eyes  a  fpirit  from  the  invifible 
world,  dillinguiihed  by  all  thofe  features,  Vi'hich  a  flrong 
aftonifhed  imagination  would  give  to  the  ghofl.  "  A 
'•  dark -red  ftieara  of  lire  comes  down  from  the  hill. 
''  Crugal  fat  upon  the  beam ;  he  that  lately  fell  by  the 
"  hand  of  Swaran,  ftriving  in  the  battle  of  heroes.  His 
"  face  is  like  the  beam  of  the  fetting  moon.  His  robes 
"  are  of  the  clouds  of  the  hill.  His  eyes  are  like  two 
"  decaying   flames.     Dark  is   the  wound  of  his  breaft. 

''  The  ftars  dim.-twinkled  through  his  form  ;   and 

*'  his  voice  was  like  the  found  of  a  diftant  ftrcam." 
The  circumflance  of  the  ftars  being  beheld,  "  dim-twink- 
"  ling  through  his  form,"  is  wonderfully  piclurefque;  and 
conveys  the  moll:  liveiy  impreiiion  of  his  thin  and  Ihiuiowy 
fubftance.  The  attitude  in  which  he  is  afterwards  placed, 
and  the  fpeech  put  into  his  mouth,  are  full  of  that  folemn 
and  awful  fublimlty,  which  fuits  the  fubjeci:.  "  Dim,  and 
"  in  tears,  he  Hood,  and  ftretched  his  pale  hand  over  the 
"  hero.  Faintly  he  raifed  his  feeble  voice,  like  the  gale 
"  of  the  reedy  Lego. — My  ghoft,  O  Connal !  is  on  my 
"  native  hills ;  but  my  corfe  is  on  the  fands  of  Uilin. 
"  Thou  flialt  never  talk  with  Ciiigal,  or  find  his  lone  fteps 

"  in 


454     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  in  the  heath.  I  am  light  as  the  blail  of  Cromla ;  and 
"  I  move  like  the  fhadow  of  mifl.  Connal,  fon  of  Colgar! 
^'  i  fee  the  dark  cloud  of  death.  It  hovers  over  the  plains 
"  of  Lena.  The  fons  of  green  Erin  fhall  fall.  Remove 
"  from  the  field  of  ghofts. — Like  the  darkened  moon  he 
"  retired,  in  the  midfl  of  the  whiftling  blaft.'* 

Several  other  appearances  of  fpirits  might  be  pointed 
out,  as  among  the  moil  fublime  paflages  of  Offian's  poetry. 
The  circumftances  of  them  are  conliderably  diverfified ; 
and  the  fcenery  always  fuited  to  the  occafion.  "  Oicar' 
"  flowly  afcends  the  hill.  The  meteors  of  night  fet  on 
'"^  the  heath  before  him.  A  diftant  torrent  faintly  roars. 
"  Unfrequent  blafls  ruHi  through  aged  oaks.  The  half- 
*''  enlip;htened  moon  fmks  dim  and  red  behind  her  hill. 
"  Feeble  voices  are  heard  on  the  heath.  Olcar  drew  his 
"  fword." -Nothing  can  prepare  the  fancy  more  hap- 
pily for  the  awful  fcene  that  is  to  follow.  "  Trenmor 
"  came  from  his  hill,  at  the  voice  of  his  mighty  fon.  A 
"  cloud  like  the  fteed  of  the  (Iranger,  fupported  his  airy 
^'  limbs.  His  robe  is  of  the  mifl  of  Lano,  that  brings 
*'  death  to  the  people.  His  fword  is  a  green  meteor,  half- 
"  extinguifhed.  His  face  is  without  form,  and  dark.  He 
"  lighed  thrice  over  the  hero  :  And  thrice,  the  winds  of 
*'  the  night  roared  around.    Many  were  his  words  to  Of- 

*'  car-: He  flowly  vanifhed,  like  a  mill  that  melts  on  the 

"  funny  hill."  To  appearances  of  this  kind,  we  can  find 
no  parallel  among  the  Greek  or  Roman  poets.  They 
bring  to  mind  that  noble  defcription  in  the  book  of  Job  : 
■"^  In  thoughts  from  the  vifions  of  the  night,  when  deep 
"  lleep  falieth  on  men,  fear  came  upon  me,  and  trembling, 
^'  which  made  all  my  bones  to  fliake.  Then  a  fpirit  paffed 
''  before  m.y  face.  The  hair  of  my  flefh  ftood  up.  It 
^^  flood  ftill ;  but  I  could  not  difcern  the  form  thereof. 
"'  An  image  was  before  mine  eyes.  There  was  filence ; 
^'  and  I  heard  a  voice— Shall  m.ortal  man  be  more  jufl 
«  than  God  *  ?'' 

As  Oflian's  fupernatural  beings  are  defcrlbed  with  a 
furprliing  force  of  imagination,  fo  they  are  introduced 
with  propriety.     We  have  only  three  ghods  in  Fingal : 

That 

*  Job  iv.  13 — 17. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.        455 

That  of  Crugal,  which  comes  to  warn  the  hoft  of  impend- 
ing deftruclion,  and  to  advife  them  to  fave  themfelves  by 
retreat ;  that  of  Everallin,  the  fpoufe  of  Offian,  which 
calls  him  to  rife  and  refcue  their  fon  from  danger ;  and 
that  of  Agandecca,  which,  jufh  before  the  lafl:  engagement 
with  Swaran,  moves  Fingal  to  pity,  by  mourning  for  the 
approaching  deftruclion  of  her  kinfmen  and  people.  In 
the  other  poems,  ghofts  fometimes  appear  when  invoked 
to  foretel  futurity ;  frequently,  according  to  the  notions 
of  thefe  times,  they  come  as  forerunners  of  misfortunes, 
or  death,  to  thofewjiom  they  vifit;  fometimes  they  inform 
their  friends  at  a  diftance,  of  their  own  death  ;  and  fome- 
times they  are  introduced  to  heighten  the  fcenery  on  iome 
great  and  folemn  occafion.  "  A  hundred  oaks  burn  to 
''  the  wind ;  and  faint  light  gleams  over  the  heath.  The 
"  ghofts  of  Ardven  pafs  through  the  beam ;  and  fiiew 
"  their  dim  and  diftant  forms.    Comala  is  half-unfeen  on 

"  her  meteor  ;  and  Hidallan  is  fullen  and  dim." 

"  The  awful  faces  of  other  times,  looked  from  the  clouds 
"  of  Crona." — "  Fercuth  !  I  faw  the  ghoft  of  night.  Si- 
"  lent  he  ftood  on  that  bank;  his  robe  of  mift  flew  on  the 
"  wind.  I  could  behold  his  tears.  An  aged  man  he  feem- 
"  ed,  and  full  of.  thought." 

The  ghofts  of  ftrangers  mingle  not  with  thofe  of  the 
natives.  "  She  is  feen ;  but  not  like  the  daughters  of 
"  the  hill.  Her  robes  are  from  the  ftranger's  land  ;  and 
"  file  is  ftill  alone."  When  the  ghoft  of  one  whom  we 
had  formerly  known  is  introduced,  the  propriety  of  the 
living  character  is  frill  preferved.  This  is  remarkable  in 
the  appearance  of  Calmar's  ghoft,  in  the  poem  entitled 
The  Death  of  CuthuHin,  He  feems  to  forebode  CuthuUin's 
death,  and  to  beckon  him  to  his  cave.  Cuthullin  re- 
proaches him  for  fuppofmg  that  he  could  be  intimidated 
by  fuch  prognoftics.  "  Why  doft  thou  bend  thy  dark 
*'  eyes  on  me,  ghoft  of  the  car-borne  Calmar  ?  Would'ft 
"  thou  frighten  me,  O  Matha's  fon !  from  th^  battles  of 
^'  Cormac  ?  Thy  hand  was  not  feeble  in  v/ar  ;  neither  was 
"  thy  voice  for  peace.  How  art  thou  ch^ngvu,  chief  of 
"  Lara !  if  now  thou  doft  advife  to  fly !  Retire  thou  to 
"  thy  cave :  Thou  art  not  Calmar'i  ghoft ;  he  delighted 

"  in 


456     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  in  battle;  and  his  arm  was  like  the  thunder  of  heaven." 
Calmar  makes  no  return  to  this  feeming  reproach  :  But, 
"  He  retired  in  his  blaft  with  joy ;  for  he  had  heard  the 
"  voice  of  his  praife."  This  is  precifely  the  ghoft  of  A- 
chiiies  in  Homer ;  who,  notwithilanding  all  the  diiTatif- 
fadion  he  expreffes  with  his  (late  in  the  region  of'the  dead, 
as  foon  as  he  had  heard  his  fon  Neoptolemus  praifed  for 
his  gallant  behaviour,  ftrode  away  with  filent  joy  to  rejoin 
the  refl  of  the  Ihades  *. 

It  is  a  great  advantage  of  Offian's  mythology,  that  it 
is  not  local  and  temporary,  like  that  of  Tnofl;  other  ancient 
poets  ;  which  of  courfe  is  apt  to  feem  ridiculous,  after  the 
fuperititions  have  paifed  away  on  which  it  is  founded.  Of- 
fian's  mythology  is,  to  fpeak  fo,  the  mythology  of  human 
nature  ;  for  it  is  founded  on  what  has  been  the  popular 
belief,  in  all  ages  and  countries,  and  under  all  forms  of 
religion,  concerning  the  appearance  of  departed  fpirits. 
Homer's  machinery  is  always  lively  and  amufing ;  but  far 
from  being  always  fupported  with  proper  dignity.  The 
indecent  fquabbles  among  his  gods,  furely  do  no  honour 
to  epic  poetry.  Whereas  Offian's  machinery  has  dignity 
upon  all  occafions.  It  is  indeed  a  dignity  of  the  dark  and 
awful  kind  ;  but  this  is  proper  ;  becaufe  coincident  with 
the  ftrain  and  fpirit  of  the  poetry.  A  light  and  gay  my- 
thology, like  Homer's,  would  have  been  perfectly  unfuit- 
able  to  the  fubjefts  on  which  Offian's  genius  was  employ- 
ed. But  though  his  machinery  be  always  folemn,  it  is  en- 
livened, as  much  as  the  fubjed:  would  permit,  by  thofe 
pleafant  and  beautiful  appearances,  which  he  fometimes 
introduces  of  the  fpirits  of  the  hill.  Thefe  are  gentle  fpi- 
rits; cefcending  on  fun-beams;  fair-moving  on  the  plain; 
their  forms  bright ;  their  voices  fv.'eet ;  and  their  vifits  to 
men  propitious.  The  greatefl  praife  that  can  be  given,  to 
the  beauty  of  a  living  woman,  is  to  fay,  "  She  is  fair  as 
"  the  ghoft  of  the  hill ;  when  it  moves  in  a  fun-beam  at 
*•  noon,  over  the  filence  of  Pvlorven."  '•  The  hunter 
"  ihall  hear  my  voice  from  his  booth.  He  fhall  fear,  but 
*^  love  my  voice.  For  fweet  fnall  my  voice  be  for  my 
*'  friends ;  for  pleaHmt  were  they  to  me." 

Besides 

*  Ody{rcy,   Lib.  11. 


tHE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  457 

Besides  ghofts,  or  the  fpirits  of  deparced  men,  we  find 
ill  Offian  fome  Inflances  of  other  kinds  of  machinery.  Spi- 
rits of  a  fuperior  nature  to  ghofls  are  fometimes  alluded  to, 
which  have  power  to  embroil  the  deep;  to  call  forth  winds 
and  florms,  and  pour  them  on  the  land  of  the  ftranger ; 
to  overturn  forefts,  and  to  fend  death  among  the  people. 
We  have  prodigies  too  ;  a  Tnower  of  blood  ;  and  when 
fome  difafher  is  befalling  at  a  diftance,  the  found  of  deatii 
heard  on  the  firings  of  OlTian's  harp  :  all  perfedly  confo- 
nant,  not  only  to  the  peculiar  ideas  of  northern  nations, 
but  to  the  general  current  of  a  fuperfhitious  imagination  in 
all  countries.  The  defcription  of  Fingal's  airy  hall,  in  the 
poem  called  Berrathon^  and  of  the  afcent  of  Malvina  into 
it,  deferves  particular  notice,  as  remarkably  noble  and 
magnificent.  But,  above  all,  the  engagement  of  Fingal 
with  the  fpirit  of  Loda,  in  Carric-thura,  cannot  be  men- 
tioned without  admiration.  I  forbear  tranfcribing  the 
paffage,  as  it  mull  have  drawn  the  attention  of  every  one 
who  has  read  the  works  of  Oflian.  The  undaunted  cou- 
rage of  Fingal,  oppofed  to  the  terrors  of  the  Scandinavian 
god  ;  the  appearance  ai-^dfpeech  of  that  awful  fpirit  ;  the 
wound  which  he  receives,  and  the  finiek  which  he  lends 
forth,  "  as  rolled  into  himfelf,  he  rofe  upon  the  wind  ;'*- 
are  full  of  the  mod:  amazing  and  terrible  majelly.  I  know 
no  pafiage  more  fublime  in  the  writings  of  any  uninipired 
author.  The  fiction  is  calculated  to  aggrandize  the  he- 
ro ;  v/hich  it  does  to  a  high  degree  ;  nor  is  it  fo  un- 
natural or  wild  a  fiftion,  as  might  at  firft  be  thoughts 
According  to  the  notions  of  thofe  times,  fupernatural  be- 
ings were  material,  and  confequently  vulnerable.  The 
fpirit  of  Loda  was  not  acknowledged  as  a  deity  by  Fingal ; 
he  did  not  worfhip  at  the  (tone  of  his  power  ;  he  plainly 
confidered  him  as  the  god  of  his  enemies  only  ;  as  a  local 
deity,  whofe  dominion  extended  no  farther  than  to  the 
regions  where  he  was  worihipped  ;  who  had,  therefore, 
no  title  to  threaten  him,  and  no  cluim  to  his  fubmillion. 
We  know  there  are  poetical  precedents  of  great  authoritv, 
for  fictions  fully  as  extravagant ;  and  if  Homer  be  forgi- 
ven for  making^Diomed  attack,  and  wound  in  battle,  the 
gods  whom  that  chief  himfelf  worihipped,  Offian  furely  is 

M  ni  ra  par- 


458      A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on     ' 

pardonable  for  making  his  hero  fuperior  to  the  god  of  a 
foreign  territory  *. 

NoTv/iTHSTANDiNG  the  poetical  advantages  which  I 
have  afcribed  to  OiTian's  machinery,  I  acknowledge  it 
would  have  been  much  more  beautiful  and  perfect,  had 
the  author  difcovered  fome  knowledge  of  a  fupreme  Be- 
ing. Although  his  fiience  on  this  head  has  been  accounted 
for  by  the  learned  and  ingenious  tranflator  in  a  very  pro- 
bable manner,  yet  Itill  it  muft  be  held  a  confiderable  dif- 
advantage  to  the  poetry.  For  the  moil  augufl  and  lofty 
ideas  that  can  embellifli  poetry,  are  derived  from  the  belief 
of  a  divine  adminiilration  of  the  univerfe  :  and  hence  the 
invocation  of  a  fupreme  Being,  or  at  leaft  of  fome  fupe- 
rior powers  who  are  conceived  as  prefiding  over  human 
affairs,  the  folemnities  of  religious  worihip,  prayers  pre- 
ferred, and  aili (lance  implored  on  critical  occafions,  appear 
with  great  dignity  in  the  works  of  almofl  all  poets,  as 
chief  ornaments  of  their  compofitions.  The  abfence  of 
all  fuch  religious  ideas  from  Offian's  poetry,  is  a  fenfible 
blank  in  it  ;  the  more  to  be  regretted,  as  we  can  eafily 
imagine  what  an  iiluilrious  figure  they  would  have  made 
under  the  management  of  fuch  a  genius  as  his  ;  and  how 
finely  they  would  have  been  atiapted  to  many  fituations 
which  occur  in  his  Vv'orks. 

After  fo  particular  an  examination  of  Fingal,  it  were 
neediefs  to  enter  into  as  full  a  difculTion  of  the  conduct  of 
Teiiiora,  the  other  epic  poem.  Many  of  the  fame  obfer- 
vations,  efpecially  vv'itll  regard  to  the  great  charaderiflicks 

of 

*  The  fcenaof  this  encounter  of  Finj';al  with  the  fpirit  of  Loda,  is  laid  in  Ini- 
ftore,  or  the  iflantls  of  Orkney ;  and  in  the  defcription  of  Fingal's  landing  there,  it 
is  faid,  "  A  rock  bends  along  the  coatt,  with  all  its  echoing  wood.  On  the  top 
"  is  the  circle  of  Loda,  witli  the  moffy  ftone  of  power."  In  conlirmation  of  Of- 
fian's topography,  it  is  proper  to  acquaint  the  reader,  that  in  thefe  iflands,  asl  have 
been  well  informed,  there  are  many  piilais,  and  circles  of  ftones,  fiill  remaining, 
known  bv  the  name  of  the  {lones  and  ciicles  of  Loda,  or  Loden ;  to  which  fome 
degree  of  fuperflitious  regard  is  annexed  to  this  day.  Thefe  iflands,  until  the  year 
1408,  made  a  part  of  the  Dmifh  dominions.  Their  ancient  languige,  of  which 
there  are  yet  fome  remains  among  the  natives,  is  called  the  Norfe  ;  and  is  a  dia- 
ItH,  not  of  the  Celtic,  but  of  the  Scandinavian  tongue.  The  manners  and  the  lu- 
perftiiions  of  the  inhabitants,  arc  quite  didinfl;  from  thofe  of  the  Highlands  and 
weftern  ifles  of  Scotland.  Their  ancient  fongs  too,  are  of  a  different  fhain  and  cha- 
racter, turning  upon  magical  incantations  and  evocations  from  the  dead,  which 
were  the  favourite  fubjetfs  of  the  old  Runic  poetry.  They  have  many  traditions 
amon<^them  of  wais  in  former  times  with  t!ie  inhabitanls  of  the  wellern  iflands. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         459 

of  heroic  poetry,  apply  to  both.  The  high  merit,  how- 
ever, of  Temora,  requires  that  we  fnould  not  pafs  it  by 
without  fome  remarks. 

The  fcene  of  Temora,  as  of  Fingal,  is  laid  in  Ireland  ; 
and  the  adion  is  of  a  pofterior  date.  Tke  fubjecl  is,  an 
expedition  of  the  hero,  to  dethrone  and  punifli  a  bloody 
ufurper,  and  to  reftore  the  poffeiTion  of  th^  kingdom  to 
the  poflerity  of  the  lawful  prince  :  an  undertaking  worthy 
of  the  juHice  and  heroifm  of  the  great  Fingal.  The  adion 
is  one,  and  complete.  The  poem  opens  with  the  defccnt 
of  Fingal  on  the  coafl,  and  the  confultation  lield  among 
the  chiefs  of  the  enemy.  The  murder  of  the  young  prince 
Cormac,  which  was  the  caufe  of  the  war,  being  antecedent 
to  the  epic  adion,  is  introduced  with  great  propriety  as 
an  epifode,  in  the  nrft  book.  In  the  progrefs  of  the  poem, 
three  battles  are  defcribed,  which  rife  in  their  importance 
above  one  another  ;  the  fuccefs  is  various,  and  the  iiTue  for 
fome  time  doubtful  ;  till,  at  lail,  Fingal  brought  into  dif- 
trefs,  by  the  wound  of  his  great  general  Gaul,  and  the 
death  of  his  fonFillan,  aifames  the  command  himfclf,  and 
having  fiain  the  Irifn  king  in  fmgle  combat,  reftores  the 
rightful  heir  to  his  throne. 

Temora  has,  perhaps,  lefs  fire  than  the  other  epic  poem; 
but,  in  return,  ij;  has  more  variety,  more  tendcrnefs,  and 
more  magnificence.  The  reigning  idea,  fo  often  prefented 
to  us,  of  "  Fingal  in  the  laft  of  his  fields,"  is  venerable  and  . 
affecling  ;  nor  could  any  more  noble  conclufion  be  thought 
of,  than  the  aged  hero,  after  fo  many  fuccefsf ul  atchieve- 
nients,  taking  his  leave  of  battles,  arid,  v/ith  all  the  folem- 
nities  of  thofe  times,  refigning  his  fpear  to  his  fon.  The 
events  are  lefs  crouded  in  Temora  than  in  Fingal ;  actions 
and  charafters  are  more  particularly  difpiayed  ;  wc  are  let 
into  the  tranfaclions  of  both  hoils  ;  and  informed  of  the 
adventures  of  the  night  as  Vv^ell  as  of  the  day.  The  (till 
pathetic,  and  the  romantic  fcenery  of  feveral  of  the  night- 
adventures,  fo  remarkably  fuited  to  Oilian's  genius,  occa- 
fion  a  fine  diverfity  in  the  poem  ;  and  are  happily  con- 
trafted  with  the  military  operations  of  the  day. 

In  moft  of  our  author's  poems,  the  horrors  of  war  arc 
foftened  by  intermixed  fcenes  of  love  and  friendihip.     In 

Fingal, 


460     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

Fingal,  thefe  are  introduced  as  epifodes  ;  in  Temora,  we 
have  an  incident  of  this  nature  wrought  into  the  body  of 
the  piece  ;  in  the  adventure  of  Cathmor  and  Sul-malla. 
This  forms  one  of  the  moft  confpicuous  beauties  of  thai 
poem.  The  diftrefs  of  Sul-malla,  difguifed  and  unknown 
among  flrangers,  her  tender  and  anxious  concern  for  the 
faiety  of  Cathmor,  her  dream.,  and  her  meking  remem- 
brance of  the  land  of  her  fathers  ;  Cathmor's  emotion 
when  he  firfl:  difcovers  her,  his  ftruggles  to  conceal  and 
iupprefs  his  paffion,  leit  it  Ihould  unman  him  in  the  mid(t 
oi"  war,  though  "  his  foul  poured  forth  in  fecret,  when 
"  he  beheld  her  fearful  eye ;"  and  the  lad:  interview  be- 
tween them,  when,  overcome  by  her  tendernefs,  he  lets  her 
know  he  had  difcovered  her,  and  confefles  his  paffion  ; 
all  are  wrought  up  with  the  mod  exquifite  fenfibility  and 
delicacy. 

Besides  the  characlers  which  appeared  in  Fingal,  feve- 
ral  new  ones  are  here  introduced  ;  and  though,  as  they 
are  all  the  charaders  of  warriors,  braveiy  is  the  predomi- 
nant feature,  they  are  neverthelefs  diverfiiied  in  a  fenfible 
and  ftrildng  manner.  Foldath,  for  inRance,  the  general 
of  Cathmor,  exhibits  the  perfect  picture  of  a  favage  chief- 
tain :  Bold,  and  daring,  but  prefumptuous,  cruel,  and 
overbearing.  He  is  diftinguiihed,  on  his  firfl  appearance, 
as  the  friend  of  the  tyrant  Cairbar  ;  "  his  ffride  is  haugh- 
"  ty  ;  his  red  eye  rolls  in  wrath."  In  his  perfon  and 
whole  deportment,  he  is  contrafted  with  the  mild  and  wife 
Ilidalla,  another  leader  of  the  fame  anny,  on  whofe  hu- 
manity and  getitlenefs  he  looks  with  grca,t  contempt.  He 
profeli'edly  delights  in  Ihife  and  blood.  He  infults  over 
the  fallen.  He  is  imperious  in  his  counfels,  and  faftious 
when  they  are  not  followed.  He  is  unrelenting  in  all  his 
fchemes  of  revenge,  even  to  the  length  of  denying  the  fu- 
neral fong  to  the  dead  ;  which,  from  the  injury  thereby 
done  to  their  ghofcs,  was,  in  thofe  days,  confidered  as 
the  greateil  barbarity.  Fierce  to  the  lalt,  he  comforts 
himfelf,  in  his  dying  moments,  with  thinking  that  his 
gholt  i]-.all  often  leave  his  blafl  to  rejoice  over  the  graves 
of  thofe  he  had  fiaih.  Yet  Offian,  ever  prone  to  the  pa- 
thetic, has  contrived  to  throw  into  his  account  of  the  death, 

even 


THE  POEMS  OF   OSSIAN.  461 

even  of  this  man,  fome  tender  circumftances  ;  by  the 
moving  defcription  of  his  daughter  Dardulena,  the  lafl  of 
his  race. 

The  character  of  Foidath  tends  much  to  exalt  that  of 
Cathmor,  the  chief  commander,  which  is  diftinguiflied  by 
the  moft  humane  virtues.  He  abhors  all  fraud  and  cruel- 
ty, is  famous  for  his  hofpitaiity  to  ilrangers  ;  open  to  eve- 
ry generous  fentiment,  and  to  every  foft  and  compaffionate 
feeling.  He  is  fo  amiable,  as  to  divide  the  reader's  at- 
tachment between  him  and  the  hero  of  the  poem  ;  though 
our  author  has  artfully  managed  it  fo,  as  to  make  Cath- 
mor himfelf  indireftly  acknowledge  Fingal's  fuperiority, 
and  to  appear  fomewhat  apprehenfive  of  the  event,  after 
the  death  of  Fillan,  which  he  knew  would  call  forth  Fin- 
gal  in  all  his  might.  It  is  very  remarkable,  that,  although 
Oflian  has  introduced  into  his  poems  three  complete  he- 
roes, Cuthullin,  Cathmor,  and  Fingal,  he  has,  however, 
fenfibly  didinguilhed  each  of  their  characters.  Cuthullin 
is  particularly  honourable  ;  Cathmor  particularly  amiable; 
Fingal  wife  and  great,  retaining  an  afcendant  peculiar  to 
himfelf,  in  whatever  light  he  is  viewed. 

But  the  favourite  figure  in  Temora,  and  the  one  moft 
highly  finiflied,  is  Fillan.  His  character  is  of  that  fort, 
for  which  Oflian  fliews  a  particular  fondnefs  ;  an  eager, 
fervent  young  warrior,  fired  with  all  the  impatient  enthu- 
fiafm  for  military  glory,  peculiar  to  that  time  oi  life.  He 
had  fketched  this  in  the  defcription  of  his  own  fon  Ofcar  ; 
but  as  he  has  extended  it  more  fully  in  Fillan,  and  as  the 
charafter  is  fo  confonant  to  the  epic  ftrain,  though,  fo  far 
as  I  remember,  not  placed  in  fuch  a  confpicuous  light  by 
any  other  epic  poet,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  attend  a 
little  to  Ofiian's  management  of  it  in  this  inftancc. 

Fillan  was  the  youngeft  of  all  the  fons  of  Fingal ; 
younger  it  is  plain  than  his  nephew  Ofcar,  by  whofe  fame 
and  great  deeds  in  war,  we  may  naturally  fuppofe  his  am- 
bition to  have  been  highly  ftimulated.  Withal,  as  he  is 
younger,  he  is  defcribed  as  more  raih  and  fiery.  His  firft 
appearance  is  foon  after  Ofcar's  death,  when  he  was  em- 
ployed to  watch  the  motions  of  the  foe  by  night.  In  a  con- 
verfation  with  his  brother  Oflian,  on  that  occafion,  we 

learn 


45?     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  ON 

learn  that  it  v/as  not  long  fmce  he  began  to  lift  the  fpear. 
"  Few  are  the  marks  of  my  fword  in  battle  ;  but  my  foul 
"  is  lire."  He  is  with  fome  difiiculty  reilrained  by  Offian. 
from  going  to  attack  the  enemy  ;  and  complains  to  him, 
that  his  father  had  never  allowed  him  any  opportunity  of 
fignalifmg  his  valour.  "  The  king  hath  not  remarked  niv 
"  fword  :  I  go  forth  with  the  crowd  ;  I  return  without  my 
"  fame."  Soon  after,  when  Fing;al  accordino-  to  cudom 
was  to  appoint  one  of  his  chiefs  to  command  the  army,  and 
each  was  (landing  forth,  and  putting  in  his  claim  to  this 
honour,  Fillan  is  prefejited  in  the  follovving  moif  pidur- 
efque  and  natural  attitude.  "  On  his  fpear  itood  the  fon 
"  of  Ciatho,  in  the  wandering  of  his  locks.  I'hrice  he 
"  raifed  his  eyes  to  Fingal ;  his  voice  thrice  failed  him  as 
"  he  fpoke.  Fillan  could  not  boaft  of  battles  :  at  once  he 
"  flrode  away.  Bent  over  a  diltant  ftream  he  flood ;  the 
"tear  hung  in  his  eye.  He  ftruck,  at  times,  the  thiftle's 
"  head,  with  his  inverted  fpear."  No  lefs  natural  and 
beautiful  is  the  defcription  of  Fingal's  paternal  emotion  on 
this  occafion.  "  Nor  is  he  unfeen  of  Finga),  Side-long 
"  he  beheld  his  fon.  -  He  beheld  him  with  burfling  joy.  He 
^''  hid  the  big  tear  with  his  locks,  and  turned  amidft  his 
"  crouded  foul."  The  command,  for  that  day,  being  given 
to  GauL,  Fillan  rulhes  amidft  the  thickeil  of  the  foe,  faves 
Gaul's  life,  who  is  wounded  by  a  random  arrow,  and  diflin- 
guifhes  himfelf  fo  in  battle,  that  "  the  days  of  old  return  on 
"  Fijigal's  mind,  as  he  beholds  the  renovv^n  of  his  fon.  As 
'*  the  fun  rejoices  from  the  cloud,  over  the  tree  his  beams 
"  have  railed,  whilft  it  fliakes  his  lonely  head  on  the  heath, 
'^  fo  jovfal  is  the  king  over  Fillan."  Sedate,  however,  and 
v^'i^e,  he  mixes  tiie  praife  which  he  beftows  on  him  with 
fome  reprehenhon  of  his  rafhnefs,  "  My  fon,  I  faw  thy 
"  deeds,  and  my  foul  was  glad.  Thou  art  brave,  fon  of 
"  Ciatho,  but  headlong  in  the  flrife.  So  did  not  Fingal 
'*  advance,  though  he  never  feareHa  foe.  Let  thy  people 
"  be  a  riege  behind  thee  ;  they  are  thy  flrength  in  the 
"  field.  Then  fhalt  thou  be  long  renowned,  and  behold 
"  the  tombs  of  thy  fiithers." 

On  the  next  day,  the  greateft  and  the  laft  of  Fillan*s 
life,  the  charge  is  committed  to  him  of  leading  on  the  hofb 

to 


THE  POEMS  Of  OSSIAN. 


403 


to  battle.  Firig?rs  fpeech  to  his  troops  on  this  occafion, 
is  full  of  noble  fentiftient ;  and  where  he  recommends  his 
fon  to  their  care,  extremely  touching.  "  A  young  beam 
*^  is  before  you  ;  few  are  his  fteps  to  war.  They  are  few, 
"  but  he  is  valiant ;  defend  my  dark-haired  fon.  Bring 
'-  him  back  with,  joy  ;  hereafter  he  may  (land  alone.  His 
'^  form  is  like  his  fathers;  his  foul  is  a  flame  of  their  fire.'* 
"When  the  battle  begins,  the  poet  puts  forth  his  ftrength 
to  defcribe  the  exploits  of  the  young  hero ;  who,  at  laft 
encountering  and  killing  with  his  own  hand,  Foidath  the 
oppofite  general,  attains  the  highefl  pinnacle  of  glory.  In 
what  follows,  when  the  fate  of  Fillan  is  drawing  near,  Of- 
fian,  if  any  where,  excels  himfelf.  Foidath  being  flain, 
and  a  general  rout  begun,  there  was  no  rcfource  left  to 
the  enemy  but  in  the  great  Cathmor  himfelf,  who  in  this 
extremity  defcends  from  the  hill,  wheie,  according  to  the 
cuftom  of  thofe  princes,  he  furveyed  the  battle.  Obfervc 
how  this  critical  event  is  v/rought  up  by  the  poet.  "  Wide 
"  fpreading  over  echoing  Lubar,  the  flight  of  Bolga  is 
"  rolled  along.  Fiilan  hung  forward  on  their  fteps  ;  and 
"  ftrewed  the  heath  v/ith  dead.     Fingal  rejoiced  over  his 

"  fon. Blue-fliielded  Cathmor  rofe. Son  of  Alpin, 

"  bring  the  harp  !  Give  Fillan's  praife  to  the  wind  ;  raife 
"  high  his  praife  in  my  hall,  while  yet  he  fliines  in  war. 
"  Leave,  blue-eyed  Clatho  !  leave  thy  hall !  behold  that 
"  early  beam  of  thine!  The  holt  is  withered  in  its  courfe. 

"  No  farther  look it  is  dark — light-trembling  from 

"  the  harp,  ftrike,  virgins  !  Itrike  the  found."  The  fud- 
den  interruption,  and  fufpenfe  of  the  narration  on  Cath- 
mor's  rifmg  from  his  hill,  the  abrupt  burfting  into  the 
praife  of  Fillan,  and  the  palnonate  apoitrophe  to  his  mo- 
ther Clatho,  are  admirable  efforts  of  poetical  art,  in  ordei* 
to  intereft  us  in  Fillan's  danger ;  and  the  whole  is  height- 
ened by  the  immediately  following  frniile,  one  of  the  mod: 
magnificent  and  fublime  that  is  to  be  met  with  in  any  poet, 
and  which,  if  it  had  been  found  in  Homer,  would  have 
been  the  frequent  fubjed  of  admiration  to  cfitics :  "  Fillan 
"  is  like  a  fpirit  of  heaven,  that  defcends  irom  ilie  fkirt 
*'  of  his  blaft.     The  troubled  ocean  feels  bis  fteps,  as  he 

"  ftrides 


464     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  flrides  from  wave  to  wave.     His  path  kindles  behind 
'^  him ;  iflands  fliake  their  heads  on  the  heaving  feas." 

But  the  poet's  art  is  not  yet  exhaufled.  The  fall  of 
this  noble  young  warrior,  or,  in  Offian's  ftyle,  the  extinc- 
tion of  this  beam  of  heaven,  could  not  be  rendered  too 
interefling  and  affecting.  Our  attention  is  naturally  drawn 
towards  Fingal.  He  beholds  from  his  hill  the  rifmg  of 
Cathmor,  and  the  danger  of  his  fon.  But  what  Ihall  he 
do  ?  "  Shall  Fingal  rife  to  his  aid,  and  take  the  fword  of 
"  Luno  ?  What  then  fliould  become  of  thy  fame,  fon  of 
"  white-bofomed  Clatho  ?  Turn  not  thine  eyes  from  Fin- 
"  gal,  daughter  of  Iniftore  !  I  fliall  not  quench  thy  early 
"  beam. — No  cloud  of  mine  fhall  rife,  my  fon,  upon  thy 
"  foul  of  fire."  Struggling  between  concern  for  the  fame, 
and  fear  for  the  fafety  of  his  fon,  he  withdrav/s  from  the 
fight  of  the  engagement ;  and  difpatches  Offian  in  hade  to 
the  held,  with  this  affectionate  and  delicate  injunclion. 
"  Father  of  Ofcar !"  addrefling  him  by  a  title  which  on 
this  occafion  has  the  higheft  propriety,  "  Father  of  Ofcar! 
"  lift  the  fpear ;  defend  the  young  in  arms.  But  conceal 
"  thy  fteps  from  Fillan's  eyes  :  He  mull  not  know  that  I 
"  doubt  his  fteel."  Offian  arrived  too  late.  But  unwilling 
to  defcribe  Fillan  vanquifhed,  the  poet  fuppreffes  all  the  cir- 
cumftanceS'of  the  combat  with  Cathmor  ;  and  only  Ihev/s 
us  the  dying  hero.  We  fee  him  animated  to  the  end  with 
the  fame  martial  and  ardent  fpirit ;  breathing  his  lad  in 
bitter  regret  for  being  fo  early  cut  off  from  the  field  of 
glory.  "  Offian,  lay  me  in  that  hollow  rock.  Raife  no 
"  ftoiie  above  me  ;  left  one  Ihould  aik  about  my  fame.  I 
"  am  fallen  in  the  firft  of  my  fields;  fallen  without  renown. 
"  Let  thy  voice,  alone,  fend  joy  to  my  flying  foul.  Why 
"  ffiould  the  bard  know  where  dwells  the  early-fallen  Fii- 
"  Ian  ?"  He  who,  after  tracing  the  circumilances  of  this 
ftory,  fnall  deny  that  our  bard  is  polfelfed  of  high  fenti- 
ment  and  high  art,  mufi  be  ftrangely  prejudiced  indeed. 
Let  him  read  the  ftory  of  Pallas  in  Virgil,  which  is  of  a 
fimilar  kind  ;  and,  after  ail  the  praife  he  may  juftly  be- 
ftow  on  the  elegant  and  finiflied  defcription  of  that  amiable 
author,  let  him  fay,  which  of  the  two  poets  unfold  moft 
of  the  human  foul.     I  wave  infifting  on  any  more  of  the 

parti- 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  465 

ticulars  In  Temora  ;  as  my  aim  is  rather  to  lead  the  rea- 
der into  the  genius  and  fpirit  of  Ofiian's  poetry,  than  to 
dwell  on  all  his  beauties. 

The  judgment  and  art  difcovered  in  conducing  works 
of  fuch  length  as  Fingal  and  Temora,  diftinguiih  them 
from  the  other  poems  In  this  colleftion.  The  fmaller  pie- 
ces, however,  contain  particular  beauties  no  lefs  eminent. 
They  are  hiflorical  poems,  generally  of  the  elegiac  kind  ; 
and  plainly  difcover  themfelves  to  be  the  work  of  the  fame 
author.  One  confident  face  of  manners  Is  every  where 
prefented  to  us  ;  one  fpirit  of  poetry  reigns  ;  the  mafterly 
hand  of  Olfian  appears  throughout  ;  the  fame  rapid  and 
animated  ftyle  ;  the  fame  ftrong  colouring  of  imaginati- 
on, and  the  fame  glowing  fenfibility  of  heart.  Befides  the 
unity  which  belongs  to  the  compofitions  of  one  man,  there 
Is  moreover  a  certain  unity  of  fubjed,  which  very  happily 
connects  all  thefe  poems.  They  form  the  poetical  hiflory 
of  the  age  of  FingaL  The  fame  race  of  heroes,  whom  we 
had  met  with  in  the  greater  poems,  Cuthullin,  Ofcar, 
Connal,  and  Gaul,  return  again  upon  the  flage  ;  and  Fin- 
gal himfelf  is  always  the  principal  figure,  prefented  on  eve- 
ry occafion,  with  equal  magnificence,  nay,  rifing  upon  us 
to  the  laft.  The  circumftances  of  Offian's  old  age  and 
blindnefs,  his  furviving  all  his  friends,  and  his  relating 
their  great  exploits  to  Malvina,  the  fpoufe  or  miftrefs  of 
his  beloved  fon  Ofcar,  furnifli  the  finefl  poetical  fituatlons 
that  fancy  could  devife,  for  that  tender  pathetic  which 
reigns  in  Offian's  poetry. 

On  each  of  thefe  poems,  there  might  be  room  for  fepa- 
rate  obfervations,  with  regard  to  the  conduft  and  difpofi- 
tion  of  the  incidents,  as  well  as  to  the  beauty  of  the  de- 
fci'iptions  and  fentlments.  Carthon  is  a  regular  and  high- 
ly-finlflied  piece.  The  main  flory  is  very  properly  intro- 
duced by  Clefsammor's  relation  of  the  adventure  of  his 
youth  ;  and  this  introduftion  is  finely  heightened  by  Fin- 
gal's  fong  of  mourning  over  Moina  ;  In  which  Offian, 
ever  fond  of  doing  honour  to  his  father,  has  contrived  to 
diftlnguifli  him,  for  being  an  eminent  poet,  as  weil  as  war- 
rior. Flngal's  fong  upon  this  occafion,  when  "  his  thou- 
"  fand  bards  leaned  forward  from  their  feats,  to  hear  the 

N  n  n  "  voice 


466    A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  voice  of  the  king,"  is  inferior  to  no  paflage  in  the  whole 
book ;  and  with  great  judgment  put  in  his  mouth,  as  the 
ferioufnefs,  no  leis  than  the  fubhmity  of  the  ftrain.  is  pe- 
cuHarly  fuited  to  the  hero's  character.  In  Darthuia,  are 
aflembled  almoft  ail  the  tender  images  that  can  touch  the 
heart  of  man  ;  friendfnip,  love,  the  affedions  of  parents, 
fons,  and  brothers,  the  diftrefs  of  the  aged,  and  the  un- 
availing bravery  of  the  young.  The  -beautiful  addrefs  to 
the  moon,  with  which  the  poem  opens,  and  the  transition 
from  thence  to  the  iubject,  molt  happily  prepare  the  mind 
for  that  train  of  affeding  events  that  is  to  follow.  The 
flory  is  regular,  dramatic,  interefting  to  the  laft.  He  who 
can  read  it  without  emotion,  may  congratulate  himfelf,  if 
he  pleaies,  upon  being  completely  arm.ed  againft  fympa- 
thetic  forrovs^.  As  Fingal  had  no  occafion  of  appearing  in 
the  adion  of  this  poem,  Offian  makes  a  very  artful  tranfi- 
tion  from  his  narration,  to  what  was  paffing  in  the  halls  of 
Selma.  The  found  heard  there  on  the  firings  of  his  harp, 
the  concern  which  Fingal  fnows  on  hearing  it,  and  the  in- 
vocation of  the  ghofiis  of  their  fathers,  to  receive  the  he- 
roes falling  in  a  diftant  land  ;  are  introduced  with  great 
beauty  of  imagination,  to  increafe  the  folemnity,  and  to 
diverfify  the  fcenery  of  the  poem. 

Carric-thura  is  full  of  the  mofl:  fublime  dignity  ;  and 
has  this  advantage,  of  being  more  chearful  in  the  fubjecl-, 
and  m.ore  happy  in  the  cataftrophe,  than  mofl  of  the  o- 
ther  poems :  though  tempered  at  the  fame  time  with  epi- 
fodes,  in  that  flrain  of  tender  melancholy,  which  feems  to 
have  been  the  great  delight  of  OfTian  and  the  bards  of  his 
age.  Lathmon  is  peculiarly  diftinguiflied,  by  high  gene- 
rofity  of  fentiment.  This  is  carried  fo  far,  particularly  in 
the  refuial  of  Gaul,  on  one  fide,  to  take  the  advantage  of 
a  ileeping  foe  ;  and  of  Lathmon,  on  the  other,  to  over- 
power by  numbers  the  two  young  warriors,  as  to  recall 
into  one's  mind  the  manners  of  chivalry  ;  fome  refem- 
blance  to  which  may  perhaps  be  fuggefled  by  other  inci- 
dents in  this  colleftion  of  poems.  Chivalry,  however, 
took  rife  in  an  age  and  country  too  remote  from  thofe  of 
Ollian,  to  admit  the  fufpicion  that  the  one  could  have  bor- 
rowed any  thing  from  the  other.     So  far  as  chivalry  had 

any 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         467 

any  real  exiftence,  the  fame  military  enthiifiafm,  which 
gave  birth  to  it  in  the  feudal  times,  might,  in  the  days  ot 
Offian,  that  is,  in  the  infancy  of  a  rifmg  (late,  through  the 
operation  of  the  fame  caufe,  very  naturally  produce  Cirects 
of  the  fame  kind  on  the  minds  and  manners  of  men.  So 
far  as  chivalry  was  an  ideal  fyftem,  exifdng  only  in  ro- 
mance, it  will  not  be  thought  furprizing,  when  we  reflect 
on  the  account  before  giver  of  the  Celtic  bards,  that  this 
imaginary  refinement  of  heroic  manners  fnould  be  found 
among  them,  as  mxuch,  at  leaft,  as  among  the  Tr&badores, 
or  flrolling  Proven9al  bards,  in  the  tenth  or  eleventh  cen- 
tury ;  whofe  fongs,  it  is  faid,  firft  gave  rife  to  thofe  roman- 
tic ideas  of  heroifm,  which  for  fo  long  a  time  enchanted 
Europe*.  OfTian's  heroes  have  all  the  gallantrv  and  gene- 
rohty  of  thofe  fabulous  knights,  v/ithout  their  extrava- 
gance ;  and  his  love-fcenes  have  native  tendernefs,  with- 
out any  mixture  of  thofe  forced  and  unnatural  conceits 
which  abound  in  the  old  romances.  The  adventures  re- 
lated by  our  poet  which  refemble  the  moit  thofe  of  ro- 
mance, concern  women  who  follow  their  lovers  to  war, 
diiguifed  in  the  armour  of  men ;  and  thefe  are  fo  manag- 
ed as  to  produce,  in  the  difcovery,  feveral  of  the  mofl  in- 
terefting  fituations  ;  one  beautiful  inftance  of  which  may 
be  feen  in  Carric-thura,  and  another  in  Calthon  and  Col- 
mal. 

OiTHON  A  prefents  a  fituation  of  a  different  nature.  In 
the  abfence  of  her  lover  Gaul,  The  had  been  carried  off 
and  ravifhed  by  Dunrommath.  Gaul  difcovers  the  place 
where  flie  is  kept  concealed,  and  comes  to  revenge  her. 
The  meeting  of  the  two  lovers,  the  fentiments  and  the 
behaviour  of  Oithona  on  that  occafion,  are  defcribed  with 
fuch  tender  and  exquifite  propriety,  as  does  the  greateft 
honour,  both  to  the  art  and  to  the  delicacy  of  our  author  ; 
and  would  have  been  admired  in  any  poet  of  the  mod:  re- 
fined age.  The  condu£t  of  Croma  mufl  flrike  every  rea- 
der as  remarkably  judicious  and  beautiful.  We  are  to  be 
prepared  for  the  death  of  Malvina,  which  is  related  in  the 
fucceeding  poem.  She  is  therefore  introduced  in  perfon  ; 
"  (he  has  heard  a  voice  in  a  dream  ;  fhe  i^els  the  tlutter- 

"  inj 

*  Vid.  Huetius  dc  origine  fabularam  Romancnfiunti, 


468     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  ing  of  her  foul  ;'*  and,  in  a  mod  moving  lamentation 
addreffed  to  her  beloved  Ofcar,  Ihe  fmgs  her  own  death- 
fong.  Nothing  could  be  calculated  with  more  art  to  footh 
and  comfort  her,  than  the  flory  which  Offian  relates.  In 
the  young  and  brave  Fovargormo,  another  Ofcar  is-  intro- 
duced ;  his  praifes  are  fung  ;  and  the  happinefs  is  fet  be- 
fore her,  of  thole  who  die  in  their  youth,  "  when  their 
"  renown  is  around  them  ;  before  the  feeble  behold  them 
"  in  the  hall,  and  fmile  at  their  trembling  hands.'* 

But  no-where  does  Oflian's  genius  appear  to  greater 
advantage,  than  in  Berrathon,  which  is  reckoned  the 
conclufion  of  his  fongs,  "  The  lafl  found  of  the  Voice 
"  of  Cona." 

C)ualis  olor  noto  pofiturus  littore  vitam, 
Ingemit,  et  mceflis  mulcens  concentibus  auras 
Prsefago  queritur  venientia  funera  cantu. 

The  whole  train  of  ideas  is  adinirably  fuited  to  the  fub- 
]&&..  Every  thing  is  full  of  that  invifibie  world,  into  which 
the  aged  Bard  believes  himfelf  now  ready  to  enter.  The 
airy  hall  of  Fingal  prefents  itfelf  to  his  view  ;  "  he  fees 
"  the  cloud  that  fhall  receive  his  ghoil  ;  he  beholds  thq 
"  mift  that  fhall  form  his  robe  when  he  appears  on  his 
"  hill  ;"  and  all  the  natural  objefts  around  him  feem  to 
carry  the  prefages  of  death.  "  The  thillle  fhakes  its  beard 
"  to  the  wind.  The  flower  hangs  its  heavy  head ;  it 
'•  feems  to  fay,  I  am  covered  vi^ith  the  drops  of  heaven ; 
"  the  time  of  my  departure  is  near,  and  the  blaft  that 
"  fhall  fcatter  my  leaves."  Malvina's  death  is  hinted  to 
him  in  the  moil  delicate  manner  by  the  fon  of  Alpin.  His 
lamentadon  over  her,  her  apotheofis,  or  afcent  to  the  ha- 
bitation of  heroes,  and  the  introduction  to  the  ftory  which 
follows  from  the  mention  which  Oflian  fuppofes  the  father 
of  Malvina  to  make  of  him  in  the  hall  of  Fingal,  are  all 
in  the  higheft  fpirit  of  poetry.  "  And  doil  thou  remem- 
"  ber  Ollian,  O  Tofcar,  fon  of  Conloch  ?  The  battles  of 
''  our  youth  Vv  ere  many  ;  our  fwords  went  together  to  the 
"  field."  Nothing  could  be  more  proper  than  to  end  his 
fongs  with  recording  an  exploit  of  the  father  of  that  Mal- 
vinn,  of  whom  his  heart  was  now  fo  full  j  and  who,  from 

,    firfl 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  4% 

firft  to  lad,  had  been  fuch  a  favourite  objed  throughout 
all  his  poems. 

The  fcene  of  mofl  of  Offian's  poems  is  laid  in  Scotland, 
or  in  the  coaft  of  Ireland  oppofite  to  the  territories  of  Fin» 
gal.  When  the  fcene  is  in  Ireland,  we  perceive  no  change 
of  manners  from  thofe  of  OiTian's  native  country.  For  as 
Ireland  was  undoubtedly  peopled  with  Celtic  tribes,  the 
language,  cuftoms,  and  religion  of  both  nations  were  the 
fame.  They  had  been  feparated  from  one  another  by  mi- 
gration, only  a  few  generations,  as  it  fliould  feem,  before 
our  poet's  age  ;  and  they  ftill  maintained  a  clofe  and  fie- 
quent  intercourfe.  But  when  the  poet  relates  the  expedi- 
tions of  any  of  his^  heroes  to  the  Scandinavian  coaft,  or  to 
the  iflands  of  Orkney,  which  were  then  part  of  the  Scan- 
dinavian territory,  as  he  does  in  Carric-thura,  Sul-nialla 
of  Lumon,  and  Cath-loda,  the  cafe  is  quite  altered.  Thofe 
countries  were  inhabited  by  nations  of  the  Teutonic  de- 
fcent,  who  in  their  manners  and  religious  rites  differed 
widely  from  the  Celtge  ;  and  it  is  curious  and  remarkable, 
to  find  this  difference  clearly  pointed  out  in  the  poems  of 
OiTian.  His  defcriptions  bear  the  native  marks  of  one  vvho 
was  prefent  in  the  expeditions  which  he  relates,  and  who 
defcribes  what  he  had  ken  with  his  own  eyes.  No  fooner 
are  we  carried  to  Lochlin,  or  the  illands  of  Iniftore,  than 
we  perceive  that  we  are  in  a  foreign  region.  New  objects  be- 
gin to  appear.  We  meet  every  where  with  the  ftones  and 
circles  of  Loda,  that  is,  Odin,  the  great  Scandinavian 
deity.  We  meet  with  the  divinations  and  inchantments, 
for  which  it  is  well  known  thofe  northern  nations  were 
early  famous.  "  There,  mixed  with  the  murmur  of  wa- 
"  ters,  rofe  the  voice  of  aged  men,  who  called  the  forms 
"  of  night  to  aid  them  in  their  war  ;"  whilft  the  Caledo- 
nian chiefs  who  affifted  them,  are  deicribed  as  {landing  at 
a  diftance,  heedlefs  of  their  rites.  That  ferocity  of  man- 
ners which  diftinguiihed  thofe  nations,  alfo  becomes  con- 
fpicuous.  In  the  combats  of  their  chiefs  there  is  a  pecu- 
liar favagenefs  ;  even  their  women  are  bloody  and  fierce. 
The  fpirit,  and  the  very  ideas  of  Regner  I.odbrog,  that 
northern  fcalder  whom  I  formerly  quoted,  occur  to  us 
again.  '•  The  hawks,"  Offran  makes  one  of  the  Scandi- 
navian 


470     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 


navian  chiefs  fay,  "  rufli  from  ail  their  winds ;  they  are 
"  wont  to  trace  my  courfe.  We  rejoiced  three  days  above 
"  the  dead,  and  called  the  hawks  of  heaven.  They  came 
"  from  all  their  winds,  to  feaft  on  the  foes  of  Annir." 

Dismissing  now  the  feparate  confideration  of  any  of 
our  author's  works,  I  proceed  to  make  lome  obfervations 
on  his  manner  of  writing,  under  the  general  heads  of  De- 
fcription.  Imagery,  and  Sentiment. 

A  POET  of  original  genius  is  always  diftinguiflied  by  his 
talent  for  defcription  *.  A  fecond-rate  writer  difcerns  no- 
thing new  or  peculiar  in  the  objed:  he  means  to  defcribe. 
His  conceptions  of  it  are  vague  and  loofe ;  his  expreffions 
feeble  ;  and  of  courfe  the  objed:  is  prefented  to  us  indif- 
tinctly  and  as  through  a  cloud.  But  a  true  poet  makes  us 
imagine  that  we  fee  it  before  our  eyes  :  he  catches  the  dif- 
tinguifhing  features  ;  he  gives  it  the  colours  of  life  and 
reality ;  he  places  it  in  fuch  a  light  that  a  painter  could 
copy  after  him.  Thia  happy  talent  is  chiefly  owing  to  a 
lively  imagination,  which  firfl  receives  a  ftrong  imprefiion 
of  the  cbjed: ;  and  then,  by  a  proper  feleftion  of  capital 
pi6:urefque  circumftances  employed  in  defcribing  it,  tranf- 
mits  that  impreil'ion  in  its  full  force  to  the  imaginations  of 
others.  That  Offian  pofieifes  this  defcriptive  power  in  a 
high  degree,  we  have  a  clear  proof  from  the  eft'ecl  which 
his  defcriptions  produce  upon  the  imaginations  of  thofe 
who  read  him  with  any  degree  of  attention  and  tafte.  Few 
poets  are  more  interefting.  We  contraft  an  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  his  principal  heroes.  The  charafters,  the 
manners,  the  face  of  the  country  become  familiar ;  we 
even  think  we  could  draw  the  figure  of  his  ghofts  :  In  a 
word,  whilft  reading  him,  we  are  tranfported  as  into  a  new 
region,  and  dwell  among  his  objefts  as  if  they  were  all 
real. 

It  were  eafy  to  point  out  feveral  inftances  of  exquifite 
painting  in  the  works  of  our  author.  Such,  for  inftance, 
as  the  fcenery  with  which  Temora  opens,  and  the  attitude 
Cairbar  is  there  prefented  to  us  ;  the  defcription  of  the 
young  prince  Cormac,  in  the  fame  book ;  and  the  ruins 

of 

*  See  the  rules  of  poetical  defcription  excelletifly  illurtiateci  by  I^ord  Kaims,  iB 
liis  Elements  of  Criticiiii!,  vol,  ill,  chap.  21.  Of  narration  and  defcnptioB. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN. 


471 


of  Balclutha  in  CarthoPx.  "  I  have  feen  the  walls  ofBal- 
"  clutha,  but  they  were  defolate.  The  fire  had  refounded 
"  in  the  halls  ;  and  the  voice  of  the  people  is  heard  on 
"  more.  The  ftream  of  Clutha  was  removed  from  its 
"  place  by  the  fail  of  the  walls.  The  thiftle  fhook  there 
"  its  lonely  head  :  The  mofs  whiftled  to  the  wind.  The 
"  fox  looked  out  from  the  windows  ;  the  rank  grafs  of 
"  the  wall  waved  round  his  head.  Defolate  is  th;^  dwell- 
"  ing  of  Moina  ;  filence  is  in  the  houfe  of  her  fathers.'* 
Nothing  alfo  can  be  more  natural  and  lively  than  the  man- 
ner in  which  Carthon  afterwards  defcribes  how  the  con- 
iiagration  of  this  city  affeded  him  when  a  child  :  "  Have 
"  I  not  feen  the  fallen  Balclutha  ?  And  fhall  I  feaft  with 
"  Comhal's  fon?  Comhal!  who  threw  his  fire  in  the  midil 
*'  of  my  father's  hall  !  I  was  young,  and  knew  not  the 
*'  caufe  why  the  virgins  wept.  The  columns  of  fmoke 
''  pleafcd  mine  eye,  when  they  rofe  above  my  walls  :  I 
"  often  looked  back  with  gladncfs,  when  my  friends  fled 
"  above  the  hill.  But  when  the  years  of  my  youth  came 
*'  on,  I  beheld  the  mofs  of  my  fallen  walls.  My  figh 
"  arofe  with  the  morning  ;  and  my  tears  dcfcended  with 
"  night.  Shall  I  not  fight,  I  faid  to  my  foul,  againfl  the 
"  children  of  my  foes  ?  And  I  will  fight,  O  bard  !  I  feel 
"  the  (Irength  of  my  foul."  In  the  fame  poem,  the  af- 
fembling  of  the  chiefs  round  Fingal,  who  had  been  warn- 
ed of  fome  impending  danger  by  the  appearance  of  a  pro- 
digy, is  defcribed  with  fo  many  piclurefque  circumltances, 
that  one  imagines  himfelf  prefent  in  the  alTembly.  "  The 
"  king  alone  beheld  the  terrible  fight,  and  he  forefaw  the 
"  death  of  his  people.  He  came  in  filence  to  his  hall, 
"  and  took  his  father's  fpear  ;  the  mail  rattled  on  his 
"  bread.  The  heroes  rofe  around.  They  looked  in  fi- 
"  lence  on  each  other,  marking  the  eyes  of  Fingal.  They 
"  faw  the  battle  in  his  face.  A  thoufand  fliields  are  pla- 
"  ced  at  once  on  their  arms  ;  and  they  drew  a  thoufimd 
*'  fwords.  The  hall  of  Selma  brightened  around.  The 
"  clang  of  arms  afcends.  The  grey  dogs  hov/l  in  their 
"  place.  No  word  is  among  the  mighty  chiefs.  Each 
"  marked  the  eves  of  the  king  ;  and  half-affumed  his 
«'  fpear." 

It 


472     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

It  has  been  objefted  to  Offian,  that  his  defcriptions  of 
itiilitary  actions  are  imperfecl,  and  much  lefs  diverfified 
by  circumftances  than  thofe  of  Homer.  This  is  in  fome 
meafure  true.  The  amazing  fertiHty  of  Homer's  inven- 
tion is  no  where  fo  much  difplayed  as  in  the  incidents 
of  his  battles,  and  in  the  little  hiftory  pieces  he  gives 
of  the  perfons  flain.  Nor  indeed,  with  regard  to  the  ta- 
lent of  defcription,  can  too  much  be  faid  in  praife  of  Ho- 
mer. Every  thing  is  alive  in  his  writings.  The  colours 
with  which  he  paints  are  thofe  of  nature.  But  Oilian's  ge- 
nius was  of  a  different  kind  from  Homer's.  It  led  him 
to  hurry  towards  grand  objects,  rather  than  to  amufe  him- 
felf  v/ith  particulars  of  lefs  importance.  He  could  dwell 
on  the  death  of  a  favourite  hero  ;  but  that  of  a  private 
man  feldom  (topped  his  rapid  courfe.  Homer's  genius  was 
more  comprehenfive  than  OfTian's.  It  included  a  wider 
circle  of  objecfs  ;  and  could  work  up  any  incident  into 
defcription.  OfTian's  was  more  limited ;  but  the  region 
within  which  it  chiefly  exerted  itfelf  was  the  highefl  of  allj 
the  region  of  the  pathetic  and  fublime. 

We  muft  not  imagine,  however,  that  Offian's  battles 
confiff  only  of  general  indiitind  defcription.  Such  beau- 
tiful incidents  are  fometimes  introduced,  and  the  circum- 
ftances of  the  perfons  llain  fo  much  diverfified,  as  fhew  that 
he  could  have  embellifiied  his  military  fcenes  with  an  a- 
bundant  variety  of  particulars,  if  his  genius  had  led  him 
to  dwell  upon  them.  One  man  "  is  (tretched  in  the  duft 
"  of  his  native  land  ;  he  fell,  where  often  he  had  fpread 
''  the  feaft,  and  often  raifed  the  voice  of  the  harp."  The 
maid  of  Iniftore  is  introduced,  in  a  moving  apoftrophe, 
as  weeping  for  another;  "  and  a  third,  as  rolled  in  the 
"  duft  he  lifted  his  faint  eyes  to  the  king,"  is  remember- 
ed and  mourned  by  Fingal  as  the  friend  of  Agandecca.  The 
Mood  pouring  from  the  wound  of  one  v/ho  is  flain  by 
night,  is  heard  "  hifling  on  the  half-extinguifhed  oak," 
which  had  been  kindled  for  giving  light :  Another,  climb- 
ing a  tree  to  efcape  from  his  foe,  is  pierced  by  his  fpear 
from  behind  ;  "  Ihrieking,  panting  he  fell ;  whilft  mofs 
"  and  withered  branches  piirfue  his  fall,  and  llrew  the 
"  blue  arms  of  Gaul."     Never  was  a  finer  picture  drawn 

of 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.        473 

of  the  ardour  of  two  youthful  warriors  than  the  foUov/- 
ing  :  "  I  faw  Gaul  in  his  armour,  and  my  foul  was 
"  mixed  with  his  :  For  the  fire  of  the  battle  was  in  his 
"  eyes  j  he  looked  to  the  foe  with  joy.  We  fpoke  the  words 
"  of  friendfHip  in  fecretj  and  the  lightning  of  our 
"  fv/ords  poured  together.  We  drew  them  behind  the 
"  wood,  and  tried  the  Itrength  of  our  arms  on  the  cmp- 
"  ty  air." 

OssiAN  is  always  concife  in  his  defcriptions,  which 
adds  much  to  their  beauty  and  force.  For  it  is  a  fri"ean 
miftake  to  imagine,  that  a  croud  of  particulars,  or  a 
very  full  and  extended  ilyle,  is  of  advantage  to  defcrip- 
tion.  On  the  contrary,  fuch  a  diftufe  manner  for  the 
moll  part  weakens  it.  Any  one  redundant  circumilance 
is  a  nuifance.  It  encumbers  and  loads  the  fancy,  and 
renders  the  main  image  indiftinft.  '*  Obftat,"  as  Quin-. 
tilian  fays  with  regard  to  flyle,  "  quicquid  non  adjuvat." 
To  be  concife  in  defcription,  is  one  thing;  and  to  be 
general,  is  another.  No  defcription  that  refts  in  gene- 
rals can  poiTibly  be  good  ;  it  can  convey  no  lively  idea  j 
for  it  is  of  particulars  only  that  we  have  a  diilindt  con- 
ception. But,  at  the  faine  tinie,  no  ftrong  imagination 
dwells  long  upon  any  one  particular  ;  or  heaps  together  a 
mafs  of  trivial  ones.  By  the  happy  choice  of  fome  one, 
or  of  a  few  that  are  the  moil  ftriking,  it  prefents  the 
image  more  complete,  fhews  us  more  at  one  glance,  than 
a  feeble  imagination  is  able  to  do,  by  turning  its  object 
round  and  round  into  a  variety  of  lights.  Tacitus  is  of 
all  profe  writers  the  moft  concife.  He  has  even  a  degree 
of  abruptnefs  refembling  our  author :  Yet  no  writer  is 
more  eminent  for  lively  defcription.  W  hen  Fingal,  af- 
ter having  conquered  the  haughty  Swaran,  propoll-s  to 
difmifs  him  with  honour  :  "  Raife  to-morrow  thy  white 
*'  fails  to  the  wind,  thou  brother  of  At  r.ndecca  !"  he 
conveys,  by  thus  addrelTing  his  enemy,  a  fcronger  im- 
preflion  of  the  emotions  then  paffing  within  his  mind, 
than  if  whole  paragraphs  had  been  fpenc  in  dcfcribing 
the  conflict  between  relentment  againil  Sv/aran  and  the 
tender  remembrance  of  his  ancient  love.  No  amplifi- 
cation is  needed  to  give  us  the  moft  full  idea  ot  a  hardy 

O  o  o  veteran. 


474     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

veteran,  after  the  following  words  :  ''  His  fliield  is  mark- 
"  ed  with  the  ilrokes  of  battle ;  his  red  eye  defpifes 
"  danger."  When  Ofcar,  left  alone,  was  furrounded 
by  foes,  "  he  flood,"  it  is  faid,  "  growing  in  his  place, 
"  like  the  flood  of  the  narrow  vale  ;"  a  happy  reprefen- 
tation  of  one,  who,  by  daring  intrepidity  in  the  midft 
of  danger,  feems  to  increafe  in  his  appearance,  and  be- 
comes more  formidable  every  moment,  like  the  fudden 
riling  of  the  torrent  hemmed  in  by  the  valley.  And  a 
v/hole  croud  of  ideas,  concerning  the  circumftances  of 
dom.eftic  forrow  occafioned  by  a  young  Vv'arrior's  firft  go- 
ing forth  to  battle,  is  poured  upon  the  mind  by  thefe 
v/ords  :  "  Calmar  leaned  on  his  father's  fpear  ;  that  fpear 
"  which  he  brought  from  Lara's  hall,  when  the  foul  of 
^'  his  mother  was  fad.". 

The  concifenefs  of  O'llan's  defcriptions  is  the  more 
proper  on  account  of  his  fubiefts.  Defcriptions  of  gay 
and  fmiling  fcenes  may,  without  any  difadvantage,  be 
am.plified  and  prolonged.  Force  is  not  the  predominant 
quality  expected  in  thefe.  The  defcription  may  be 
weakened  by  being  diffufe,  yet  notwithftanding,  may  be 
beautiful  ftill.  Whereas,  with  refpett  to  grand,  folemn 
and  pathetic  fubjefts,  which  are  Ofiian's  chief  field,  the 
cafe  is  very  different.  In  thefe,  energy  is  above  ail 
things  required.  The  imagination  mufl  be  feized  at 
once,  or  not  at  all  j  and  it  is  far  more  deeply  impreffed 
by  one  ilrong  and  ardent  image,  than  by  the  anxious 
minutenefs  of  laboured  iilufbration. 

But  Offian's  genius,  though  chiefly  turned  towards 
the  fublinie  and  pathetic,  was  not  confined  to  it :  In 
jubie6ts  alfo  of  grace  and  delicacy,  he  difcovers  the 
hand  oF  a  mafter.  Take  for  an  example  the  following  ele- 
gant defcription  of  Agandecca,  wherein  the  tendernefs 
of  Tibullus  feems  united  with  the  majefhy  of  Virgil. 
*^  The  daughter  of  the  fnow  overheard,  and  left  the  hall 
"  of  her  fecret  figh.  She  came  in  all  her  beauty;  like 
"  the  moon  from  the  cloud  of  the  Eaft.  Lovelinefs 
"  was  around  her  as  lip;ht.  Her  fteos  were  like  the  m.u- 
"  fic  of  fongs.  She  faw  the  youth,  and  loved  him.  He 
*'  was  the  ftolen  figh  of  her  foul.     Her  blue  eyes  rolled 

*'  on 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  475 

"  on  him  in  fecret;  and  flie  bleil  the  chief  of  Morvcn." 
Several  other  inftances  might  be  produced  of  the  feel- 
ings of  love  and  friendfhip,  painted  by  our  author  with  a 
mod  natural  and  happy  delicacy. 

The  fimplicity  of  OlTian's  manner  adds  great  beauty 
to  his  defcriptions,  and  indeed  to  his  Vvhoie  poetry.  We 
meet  with  no  affecled  ornaments  ;  no  forced  refinement  j 
no  marks  either  in  fiyle  or  thought  of  a  ftudied  endea- 
vour to  fliine  and  i'parkie.  OlTian  appears  every  where 
prompted  by  his  feelings  ;  and  to  fpeak  from  the  abun- 
dance of  his  heart.  I  remember  no  m.ore  than  one  in- 
ftance  of  what  can  be  called  quaint  tliought  in  rli'S  whole 
collection  of  his  v/orks.  It  is  in  the  tiril  book  of  Fin- 
gal,  where  from  the  tombs  of  two  lovers  two  lonely  yews 
are  mentioned  to  have  fprung,  "  whofe  branches  wilhed 
'^  to  meet  on  high."  This  fympathy  of  the  trees  vv-ith 
the  lovers,  may  be  reckoned  to  border  on  an  Italian  con- 
ceit:  and  it  is  fomewhat  curious  to  find  tliis  fin.9;le  in- 
ftanceof  that  fort  of  wit  in  our  Celtic  poetry. 

The  "joy  of  grief,"  is  one  of  Ofiian's  remarkable  ex- 
preffions,  feveral  times  repeated.  Tf  any  on^  fiiall  think 
that  it  needs  to  be  juftined  by  a  precedent,  he  may  find 
it  twice  ufed  by  Homer;  in  the  Iliad,  when  Achilles  is 
vifited  by  the  ghoft  of  Patrocliis ;  and  in  the  OdyfTey, 
when  UlyfTes  meets  his  mother  in  the  fnadcs.  On  both 
thefe  oocafions,  the  heroes,  melted  with  tendernefs,  la- 
ment their  not  having  it  in  their  pov/er  to  throw  their 
arms  around  the  ghoft,  "  that  v/e  might,"  fay  they,  *'  in 
*^  a  mutual  embrace,  enjoy  the  delight  of  grief." 

———Kp'.ipo7orirciP7ru^,ic-Sc(yo6io.     . 

But  in  truth  the  expreflion  ftands  in  need  of  no  defence 
from  authority  ;  for  it  is  a  natural  and  juft  exprefiion  ; 
and  conveys  a  clear  idea  of  that  gratification,  which  a 
virtuous  heart  often  feels  in  the  indulgence  ot  a  tender 
melancholy.  OlTian  makes  a  very  proper  diftin6lion  be- 
tween this  gratification,  and  the  deftrudive  efi'ect  of  over- 
powering grief.  ''There  is  a  joy  in  grief,  when  peace 
"  dwells  in  the  breafts  of  the  hd.  But  forrov/  waftes 
"  the  mournful,  O  daughter  of  Tolcar,  and  their  days 

<<  are 

*  OdvfT.   11.  211.      lilad,   23.  98. 


476      A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

**  are  few."  To  "  give  the  joy  of  grief,"  generally 
fjgaifies  to  raife  the  ftrain  of  foft  and  grave  mufic  ;  and 
finely  chara6lerifes  the  talte  of  Ofnan's  age  and  country. 
In  thofe  days,  when  the  fongs  of  bards  were  the  great 
delight  of  heroes,  the  tragic  miife  was  held  in  chief  ho- 
nour.-, gallant  aftions,  and  virtuous  fufferings,  were  the 
cliofen  theme ;  preferably  to  that  light  and  trifling 
flrain  of  poetry  and  mufic,  which  promotes  light  and 
trifling  manners,  and  ferves  to  emafculate  the  mind. 
"  Strike  the  harp  in  my  hall,  "  faid  the  great  Fingal,  in 
the  midft  of  youth  and  viftory,  "  Strike  the  harp  in  m^y 
"  hall,  and  let  Fingal  hear  the  fong.  Pieafant  is  the 
"  joy  of  grief!  It  is  like  the  fhower  of  fpring,  when 
"  it  foftens  the  branch  of  the  oak;  and  the  young  leaf 
"  lifts  its  green  head.  Sing  on,  O  bards  !  To-mor- 
"  row  we   lift    the  fail." 

Personal  epithets  have  been  much  ufed  by  ail  the 
poets  of  the  moft  ancient  ages:  and  when  well  chofen, 
not  general  and  unmeaning,  they  contribute  not  a  lit- 
tle to  render  the  ftyle  defcriptive  and  animated.  Be- 
fides  epithets  founded  on  bodily  diftinftions,  a-kin 
to  many  of  Homer's,  we  find  in  Offian  feveral  which 
are  remarkably  beautiful  and  poetical.  Such  as,  Ofcar 
of  the  future  fights,  Fingal  of  the  mildefl  look,  Carril 
of  other  timies,  the  mildly-blulhing  Everallin  -,  Bragela, 
the  lonely  fun-beam  of  Dunfcaich  ;  a  Culdee,  the  ion 
of  the  fecret  cell. 

But  of  all  the  ornaments  employed  in  defcriptive  po- 
etry, comparifons  or  fnniles  are  the  moft  fplendid,  Thefe 
chiefly  form  what  is  called  the  imagery  of  a  poem  :  And 
as  they  abound  fo  much  in  the  works  of  Oifian,  and  are 
commonly  among  the  favourite  pafTiiges  of  all  poets,  it 
may  be  expefted  that  I  fhouid  be  fomewhat  particular  in 
my  remarks  upon  them. 

A  POETICAL  fr.nile  always  fuppofes  two  obie6ls  brought 
together,  between  which  there  is  Ibme  near  relation  or 
connection  in  the  f;incy.  What  that  relation  ought  to 
be,  cannot  be  precifeiy  defined.  For  various,  almoft 
num.berlefs,  are  the  analogies  formed  among  objc6ls,  by 
a  fprightly  imagination.     The  relation  of  aftual  fimili- 

tudc, 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN. 


477 


tudc,  or  likenefs  of  appearance,  is  far  from  being  tiie 
only  foundation  of  poetical  comparifon.  Sometimes  a 
refemblance  in  the  effeft  produced  by  two  objects,  is 
made  the  connecting  principle :  Sometimes  a  refem- 
blance in  one  diftinguilhing  property  or  circumftance. 
Very  often  two  objefts  are  brought  together  in  a  fninile, 
though  they  referable  one  another,  ftriftly  fpcaking,  in 
nothing,  only  becaufe  they  raife  in  the  mind  a  train  of 
nmilar,  and  what  may  be  called,  concordant  ideas ;  fo 
that  the  remembrance  of  the  one,  when  recalled,  ferves 
to  quicken  andjieighten  the  impreffion  made  by  the  other. 
Thus,  to  give  an  inftance  from  our  poet,  the  plcafure 
with  which  an  old  man  looks  back  on  the  exploits  of 
his  youth,  has  certainly  no  direft  refemblance  to  the 
beauty  of  a  fine  evenings  farther  than  that  both  agree 
in  producing  a  certain  calm,  placid  joy.  Yet  Offian 
has  founded  upon  this,  one  of  the  mofl  beautiful  com- 
parifons  that  is  to  be  miCt  with  in  any  poet.  ^'  Wilt 
"  thou  not  liflen,  fon  of  the  rock,  to  the  fong  of  Ofiian  ? 
''  My  foul  is  full  of  other  times;  the  joy  of  my  youth 
"  returns.  Thus  the  fun  appears  in  the  well,  after  thq 
*^  fleps  of  his  brightnefs  have  moved  behind  a  ftorm. 
"  The  green  hills  lift  their  dewy  heads.  The  blue 
''  ftreams  rejoice  in  the  vale.  The  aged  hero  comes 
"  forth  on  his  ftafF;  and  his  grey  hair  glitters  in  the 
"  beam."  Never  was  there  a  finer  group  of  objects.  It 
raifes  a  ftrong  conception  of  the  old  man's  joy  and 
elation  of  heart,  by  difplaying  a  fcene,  which  produces 
in  every  fpedator,  a  correfponding  train  of  pleafing  emo- 
tions ;  the  declining  fun  looking  forth  in  liis  brightnefs 
after  a  ftorm  ;  the  chearful  face  of  all  nature  j  and  the 
flill  life  finely  animated  by  the  circumllance  of  the  aged 
hero,  with  his  fcaff  and  his  grey  locks ;  a  circumftance 
both  extremely  pifturefque  in  itfelf,  and  peculiarly  fuited 
to  the  main  obje6l  of  "the  comparifon.  Such  analogies 
and  affociations  of  ideas  as  thefe,  are  highly  pleafing  to 
the  fancy.  They  give  opportunity  for  introducing  many 
a  fine  poetical  pifture.  They  diverfify  the  fcene  -,  they 
aggrandize  the  fubjecl ;  they  keep  the  imagination  awake 
and  fprightly.     For  as  the   judgment  is  principally  ex- 

ercifed 


478     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

ercifed  in  diftinguifhing  objefts,  and  remarking  the  dif- 
ferences among  thofe  which  feem  alike  j  fo  the  higheft 
amufement  of  the  imagination  is  to  trace  likenefles  and 
agreernents  among  thofe  which  feem  different. 

The  principal  rules  which  refpect  poetical  compari- 
fons  are,  that  they  be  introduced  on  proper  occafions, 
when  the  mind  is  difpofed  to  relifh  them ;  and  not  in  the 
midft  of  foiiie  fevere  and  agitating  paffion,  which  cannot 
admit  this  play  of  fancy  -,  that  they  be  founded  on  a 
refemblance  neither  too  near  and  obvious,  fo  as  to  give 
little  amufement  to  the  imagination  in  tracing  it,  nor 
too  faint  and  remote,  fo  as  to  be  apprehended  with  dif- 
ficulty ■,  that  they  ferve  either  to  illuftrate  the  principal 
objc'fc,  and  to  render  the  conception  of  it,  more  clear 
and  diftinfti  or  at  leaft,  to  heighten  and  embeliifh  it, 
by  a  fuitable  alTociation  of  images  *. 

Every  country  has  a  fcenery  peculiar  to  itfelf  j  and 
the  imagery  of  a  good  poet  v/iil  exhibit  it.  For  as  he 
copies  after  nature,  his  allufions  will  of  courl'e  be  taken 
from  thofe  objeds  which  he  fees  around  him,  and  which 
have  often  ftruck  his  fancy.  For  this  reafon,  in  order  to 
judge  of  the  propriety  of  poetical  imagery,  we  ought  to 
be,  in  fome  meailire,  acquainted  vvith  the  natural  hiftory 
of  the  country  where  the  fcene  of  the  poem  is  laid.  The 
mtrodudlion  of  foreign  images  betrays  a  poet,  copying 
not  from  nature,  but  from,  other  v/riters.  Hence  fo  ma- 
ny Lions,  and  Tygers,  and  Eagles,  and  Serpents,  which 
we  meet  v/ith  in  the  fimiles  of  modern  poets  ;  as  if  thefe 
animals  had  acquired  fome  right  to  a  place  in  poetical 
comparifons  for  ever,  becaufe  employed  by  ancient  au- 
thors. They  employed  them  with  propriety,  as  objefts 
generally  known  in  their  country ;  but  they  are  abfurdiy 
ufed  for  illuflration  by  us,  who  know  them  only  at  fe- 
cond-hand,  or  by  defcription.  To  moft  readers  o^  mo- 
dern poetry,  it  were  more  to  the  purpofe  to  defcribe  Li- 
ons or  Tygers  by  hmiles  taken  from  men,  than  to  com- 
pare men  to  Lions.  OfTian  is  very  corre6t  in  this  parti- 
cular. His  imagery  is,  without  exception,  copied  from 
that  face  of  nature,  which  he  law  before  his  eyes ;  and 

by 

*  See  Elements  of  Criucifm,  ch.   19.  vol.  j. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         479 

by  confequence  may  be  expeftcd  to  be  lively.  We  meet 
with  Ro  Grecian  or  Italian  fcenery  ;  but  with  the  mifts, 
and  clouds,  and  ftorms  ot  a  northern  mountainous  region. 
No  poet  abounds  more  in  funiles  than  Offian.  There 
are  in  this  colledllon  as  many,  at  leaft,  as  in  the  whole 
Iliad  and  OdyOey  of  Homer.  I  am  indeed  inclined  to 
think,  that  the  works  of  both  poets  are  too  much  croud- 
ed  with  them.  Similes  are  fparkling  ornaments;  and 
like  all  things  that  fparkle,  are  apt  to  dazzle  and  tire  us 
by  their  luftre.  But  if  Offian's  funiles  be  too  frequent, 
they  have  this  advantage  of  being  commonly  fliorter  than 
Homer's  i  they  interrupt  his  narration  lefs ;  he  juft  glan- 
ces afide  to  fome  refembling  objefb,  and  inilantly  re- 
turns to  his  former  tract.  Homer's  fimiles  include  a  wi- 
der range  of  objefts.  But  in  return,  Offian's  are,  v/ith- 
out  exception,  taken  from  objefts  of  dignity,  which  can- 
not be  faid  for  all  thofe  which  Homer  employs.  The 
Sun,  the  Moon,  and  the  Stars,  Clouds  and  Meteors, 
Lightning  and  Thunder,  Seas  and  Whales,  Rivers, 
Torrents,  Winds,  Ice,  Rain,  Snov/,  Dews,  Milt,  Fire 
and  Smoke,  Trees  and  Forefts,  Heath  and  Grafs  and 
Flowers,  Rocks  and  Mountains,  Mufic  and  Songs,  Light 
and  Darknefs,  Spirits  and  Ghofts ;  thefe  form  the  circle, 
within  which  Offian's  comparifons  generally  run.  Some, 
not  many,  are  taken  from  Birds  and  Beads ;  as  Eagles, 
Sea  Fowl,  the  Horfe,  the  Deer,  and  the  Mountain  Bee  j 
and  a  very  few  from  fuch  operations  of  art  as  v/ere  then 
known.  Homer  has  diverfified  his  imagery  by  many 
more  allufions  to  the  animal  world ;  to  Lions,  Bulls, 
Goats,  Herds  of  Cattle,  Serpents,  Infefts ;  and  to  the 
various  occupations  of  rural  and  paftoral  life.  Offian's 
defe6l  in  this  article,  is  plainly  owing  to  the  defart,  un- 
cultivated ftate  of  his  country,  which  fuggefted  to  him 
few  images  beyond  natural  inanimate  objects,  in  their 
rudeft  form.  The  birds  and  animals  of  the  country  v/ere 
probably  not  numerous;  and  his  acquaintance  with  them 
was  flender,  as  they  were  little  fubje6led  to  the  ufi-s  of 
man. 

The   great  obje61:ion  made  to  Offian's  imagery,  is  its 
uniformity,  and  the  too  frequent  repetition  of  the  iame 

comoa- 


480     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

comparifons.  In  a  work  ih  thick  fown  with  fimiles,  one 
could  not  but  expeft  to  find  images  of  the  fame  kind 
fometimes  fuggelled  to  the  poet  by  refembiing  objefts; 
efpecially  to  a  poet  like  Offian,  who  wrote  from  the  im- 
mediate impulfe  of  poetical  enthufiafm,  and  without 
much  preparation  of  ftudy  or  labour.  Fertile  as  Ho- 
mer's imagination  is  acknowledged  to  be,  who  does  not 
know  how  often  his  Lions  and  Bulls ,  and  Flocks  of 
Sheep,  recur  with  little  or  no  variation  ^  nay,  fometimes 
in  the  very  fame  words  ?  The  objedion  made  to  Offian 
is,  however,  founded,  in  a  great  meafure,  upon  a  mif- 
take.  It  has  been  fuppofed  by  inattentive  readers,  that 
wherever  the  Moon,  the  Cloud,  or  the  Thunder,  returns 
in  a  fimile,  it  is  the  fame  fimile,  and  the  fame  Moon,  or 
Cloud,  or  Thunder,  which  they  had  met  with  a  few  pages 
before.  Whereas  very  often  the  fimiles  are  widely  differ- 
ent. The  objeft,  whence  they  are  taken,  is  indeed  in 
fubftance  the  fame  j  but  the  image  is  newj  for  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  object  is  changed;  it  is  prefented  to  the 
fancy  in  another  attitude  ;  and  clothed  with  new  cir- 
cumilances,  to  make  it  fuit  the  different  iliuitration  for 
which  it  is  employed.  In  this,  lies  Offian's  great  art  j 
in  fo  happily  varying  the  form  of  tlie  few  natural  appear- 
ances with  which  he  was  acquainted,  as  to  make  them 
conefpond  to  a  great  many  different  objects. 

Let  us  take  for  one  inftance  the  Moon,  which  is  very 
frequently  introduced  into  his  comparifons  ;  as  in  nor- 
thern climates,  where  the  nights  are  long,  the  Moon  is  a 
greater  objeft  of  attention,  than  in  the  climate  of  Ho- 
mt-r ;  and  let  us  view  how  much  our  poet  has  diverfified 
its  appearance.  The  fliield  of  a  warrior  is  like  "  the  dark- 
"  ened  m.oon  when  it  moves  a  dun  circle  through  the 
*'  heavens."  The  face  of  a  ghofl,  wan  and  pale,  is  like 
"^  the  beam  of  the  fetting  moon."  And  a  different  ap- 
pearance of  a  ghoft,  thin  and  indiftin6l,  is  like  "  the 
"  new  moon  feen  thro'  the  gathered  mill,  when  the  fky 
*'  pours  down  its  flaky  fnow,  and  the  world  is  filent  and 
"  darki"  or  in  a  different  form  ftill,  is  like  the  "  watry 
"  beam  of  the  moon,  when  it  rufhes  from  between  tv*'o 
"^  clouds,  and  the  midnight-lhower  is  on  the  field."    A 

very 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         481 

very  oppofite  ufe  is  made  of  the  moon  in  the  defcription 
of  Agandecca:  "  She  came  in  all  her  beauty,  like  the 
"  moon  from  the  cloud  of  Eaft."  Hope,  fucceeded  by 
difappointment,  is  "  joy  rifmg  on  her  face,  and  forrow, 
"  returning  again,  like  a  thin  cloud  on  the  moon."  But 
when  Sv/aran,  after  his  defeat,  is  cheared  by  Fingal's  ge- 
nerofity,  "  His  face  brightened  like  the  full  moon  of  hea- 
"  ven,  v/hen  the  clouds  vanifh  away,  and  leave  her  calm 
"  and  broad  in  the  midft  of  the  Iky."  Venvela  is  "  bric^ht 
"  as  the  moon  when  it  trembles  o'er  the  weftern  wave  ;" 
but  the  foul  of  the  guilty  Uthal  is  "  dark  as  the  troubled 
"  face  of  the  moon,  when  it  foretels  the  ftorm."  And 
by  a  very  fanciful  and  uncommon  allufion,  it  is  faid  of 
Cormac,  who  was  to  die  in  his  early  years,  "  Nor  long 
"  flialt  thou  lift  the  fpear,  mildly-lhining  beam  of  youth  ! 
"  Death  Hands  dim  behind  thee,  like  the  darkened  half 
"  of  the  moon  behind  its  growing  light.'* 

Another  inftance  of  the  fame  nature  may  be  taken 
from  mift,  which,  as  being  a  very  familiar  appearance  in 
the  country  of  Offian,  he  applies  to  a  variety  of  purpofes, 
and  purfues  through  a  great  many  forms.  Sometimes, 
which  one  would  hardly  expeft,  he  employs  it  to  heighten 
the  appearance  of  a  beautiful  object.  The  hair  of  Morna 
is  "  like  the  mift  of  Cromla,  when  it  curls  on  the  rock, 
"  and  fhines  to  the  beam  of  the  weft." — "  The  fong  comes 
"  with  its  mufic  to  melt  and  pleafe  the  ear.  It  is  like  foft 
"  mift,  that  rifmg  from  a  lake  pours  on  the  filent  vale. 
"  The  green  flov/ers  are  filled  with  dew.  The  fun  returns 
"  in  its  ftrength,  and  the  mift  is  gone  *."— But,  for  the 
moft  part,  mift  is  employed  as  a  fimilitude  of  fome  difa- 
greeable  or  terrible  objeft.  "  The  foul  of  Nathos  was  iad, 
"  like  the  fun  in  the  day  of  mift,  when  his  face  is  watry 
"  and  dim."     "  The  darknefs  of  old  age  comes  like  the 

P  p  p  "  mift 

*  There  is  a  remarkable  propriety  in  this  comparifon.  It  is  intended  to  explain 
the  efFcft  of  foft  and  mouinful  mufic.  Armin  appears  difturbed  at  a  perloi mance 
of  this  kind,  Carmor  fays  to  him,  "  Why  burRs  the  figh  of  Armin  P  Is  theie  a 
••*  caufe  to  mourn?  The  fong  comes  with  its  mufic  to  melt  and  pleale  the  e:u.  It 
"  is  like  foft  mift,  &c."  that  is,  fuch  mournful  fongs  have  a  happv  etfc6l  to  foften 
the  heart,  and  to  improve  it  by  tender  emotions,  as  the  moifture  oi  the  mift  refrcll:- 
es  and  nourifties  the  flowers ;  whilft  the  fadnefs  they  occafion  is  only  tranlifnt,  and 
foon  difpelled  by  the  fucceeding  occupations  and  aumfements  of  lift;  "  llie  lu« 
"  returns  in  its'lUength,  and  the  mift  is  gone," 


482      A  crviTiCAL  DISSERTATION  o^ 

*'  mid  of  the  defart."  The  face  of  a  ghoft  is  "  pale  as 
'•  the  mift  of  Cromla.'*  "  The  gloom  of  battle  is  rolled 
"  along  as  mift  that  is  poured  on  the  valley,  when  ftorms 
*'  invade  the  filent  fun-(hlne  of  heaven.'*  Fame  fuddenly 
departing,  is  likened  to  "  m.ift  that  fiies  au'ay  before  the 
"  ruftling  v.'ind  of  the  vale."  A  ghoft,  fiowly  vanifhing, 
to  "  mift  that  melts  by  degrees  on  the  fimny  hill.'*  Cair- 
bar,  after  his  treacherous  allaffination  of  Ofcar,  is  com- 
pared to  a  peftilenvial  fog.  "  I  love  a  foe  like  Cathmor," 
fays  Fingal,  "  his  foul  is  great ;  his  arm  is  ftrong ;  his 
*'  battles  are  full  of  fame.  But  the  little  foul  is  like  a  va- 
"  pour  that  hovers  round  the  marfliy  lake.  It  never  rifes 
"  on  the  green  hill,  left  the  winds  meet  it  there.  Its 
"  dwelling  is  in  the  cave ;  and  it  fends  forth  the  dart  of 
"  death."  This  is  a  fimile  highly  finiihed.  But  there  is 
another  which  is  ftill  more  ftriking,  founded  alfo  on  mift, 
in  the  4th  book  of  Temora.  Two  faftious  chiefs  are  con- 
tending ;  Cathmor  the  king  interpofcs,  rebukes,  and  fi- 
lences  them.  The  poet  intends  to  give  us  the  higheft  idea 
of  Cathmor's  fuperiority  ;  and  moft  efteftually  accomplifh- 
es  his  intention  by  the  following  happy  image.  "  They 
"  funk  from  the  king  on  either  fide  ;  like  two-  columns 
"  of  morning  mill:,  when  the  fun  rifes  between  them,  on 
*i  his  glittering  rocks.  Dark  is  their  rolling  on  either 
*'  fide ;  each  towards  its  reedy  pool."  Thefe  inftances 
may  fufficienlly  Ihew  v/ith  what  richnefs  of  imagination 
Oftian's  comparifons  abound,  and,  at  the  fame  time,  with 
what  propriety  of  judgment  they  are  employed.  If  his  field 
was  narrow,  it  muft  be  admitted  to  have  been  as  well  cul- 
tivated as  its  extent  woidd  allow. 

As  it  is  ufual  to  judge  of  poets  from  a  comparifon  of 
their  fimiles,  more  than  of  other  pailages,  it  will  perhaps 
be  agreeable  to  the  reader,  to  fee  how  Homer  and  Offian 
have  conducted  fome  images  of  the  fame  kind.  This 
might  be  fhewn  in  maijy  inftances.  For,  as  the  great  ob- 
jeds  of  nature  are  common  to  the  poets  of  all  nations,  and 
make  the  general  ftore-houfe  of  all  imagery,  the  ground- 
work of  their  comparifons  muft,  of  courfe,  be  frequently 
the  fame.  I  fnall  feleft  only  a  few  of  the  moft  confidera- 
bie  from  both  poets.     Mr.  Pope's  tranflation  of  Homer 

caR 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         A^-i 

-    o 

can  be  of  no  ufe  to  us  here.  The  parallel  is  altogether 
unfair  between  profe,  and  the  impofnig  harmony  of  flowing 
numbers.  It  is  only  by  viewing  Homer  in  the  fimplicity 
of  a  profe  tranilation,  that  we  can  form  any  compa'rifon 
between  the  two  bards. 

The  fhock  of  two  encountering  armies,  the  noife  and 
the  tumult  of  battle,  afford  one  of  the  moil  grand  and 
awful  fubjeds  of  defcription  ;  on  which  all  epic  poets  have 
exerted  their  flrength.  Let  us  firfl  hear  llomer.  The 
following  defcription  is  a  favourite  one,  for  we  find  it  twdce 
repeated  in  the  fame  v/ords  *.  "  When  nov/  the  conflift- 
"  ing  hofts  joined  in  tjie  field  of  battle,  then  v/ere  mutu- 
*'  ally  oppofed  fhields,  and  fv/ords,'  and  the  lirength  of 
"  armed  men.  The  boffy.  bucklers  were  dalhed  againll 
"  each  other.  The  univerfal  tumult  rofe.  "  There  were 
*'  mingled  the  triumphant  Ihouts  and  the  dying  groans  of 
"  the  viftors  and  the  vanquiflied.  The  earth  iireamed 
"  with  blood.  As  when  vv^Inter-torrents,  rufiiing  from 
*'  the  mountains,  pour  into  a  narrow  valley  their  violent 
"  waters.  They  ilfue  from  a  thoufand  fprings,  and  mix 
"  in  the  hollowed  channel.  The  difiant  Ihepherd  hears, 
"  on  the  mountain,  their  roar  from  afar.  Such  was  the 
*'  terror  and  the  fnout  of  the  engaging  armies."  In  ano- 
ther paffage,  the  poet,  much  in  the  manner  of  Oflian, 
heaps  fimile  on  fimile,  to  exprefs  the  vaftnefs  of  the  idea, 
with  which  his  imagination  feems  to  labour.  "  With  a 
*'  mighty  fliouc  the  hofi:s  engage.  Not  fo  loud  roars  the 
"  wave  of  ocean,  when  driven  againll  the  fhore  by  the 
"  whole  force  of  the  boifterous  north  ;  not  fo  loud  in  the 
*^  woods  of  the  mountain,  the  noife  of  the  flame,  when 
"  rifing  in  its  fury  to  confume  the  forefc ;  not  fo  loud  the 
<^'-  wind  among  the  lofty  oaks,  when  the  VvTath  of  the  florm 
"  rages  ;  as  was  the  clamour  of  the  Greeks  and  Trojans, 
"  v/hen,  roaring  terrible,  they  ruflied  againfl  each  other.f " 

To  thefe  defcriptions  and  fimiles,  we  may  oppofe  the 
following  from  Oliian,  and  leave  the  reader  to  judge  be- 
tween them.  He  will  find  images  of  the  fame  kind  em- 
ployed ;  commonly  lefs  extended  ;  but  thrown  forth  with 
ji  glowing  rapidity  which  charadterifes  our  poet,     ^'  As 

"  autumn's 

*  Iliad,  iv.4-i6.  and  Iliad,  viii.  60.  i  Hiad,  xiv.  393. 


484      A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  autumn's  dark  ftorms  pour  from  two  echoing  hills,  to- 
"  wards  each  other  approached  the  heroes.  As  two  dark 
"  Ttreams  from  high  rocks  meet  and  mix,  and  roar  on 
"  the  plain  ;  loud,  rough  and  dark  in  battle,  meet  Loch- 
"  iin  and  Inisfail.  Chief  mixed  his  ftrokes  with  chief, 
"  and  man  with  man.  Steel  clanging,  founded  on  fteel. 
"  Helmets  are  cleft  on  high  ;  blood  burfts,  and  fmokes 
''  around. — As  the  troubled  noife  of  the  ocean,  when  roll 
"  the  waves  on  high  ;  as  the  lad  peal  of  the  thunder  of 
"  heaven,  fuch  is  the  noife  of  battle." — "  As  roil  a  thou- 
"  fand  waves  to  the  rock,  fo  Swaran's  hofl  came  on ;  as 
*'  meets  a  rock  a  thoufand  waves,  fo  Inisfail  met  Swaran. 
"  Death  raifes  all  his  voices  around,  and  mixes  with  the 
"  found  of  fhields. — The  field  echoes  from  wing  to  wing, 
"  as  a  hundred  hammers  that  rife  by  turns  on  the  red  fon 
"  of  the  furnace." — "  As  a  hundred  winds  on  Morven  ; 
"  as  the  ftreams  of  a  hundred  hills ;  as  clouds  fly  fucceffive 
*'  over  heaven  ;  or  as  the  dark  ocean  aflTaults  the  fliore  of 
"  the  defart ;  fo  roaring,  fo  vaft,  fo  terrible,  the  armies 
"  mixed  on  Lena's  echoing  heath."  In  feveral  of  thefe 
images,  there  is  a  remarkable  fimilarity  to  Homer's  ;  but 
Y/hat  follows  is  fuperior  to  any  comparifon  that  Homer 
ufes  on  this  fubjedt.  "  The  groan  of  the  people  fpread 
"  over  the  hills;  it  was  like  the  thunder  of  night,  when 
*'  the  cloud  burfts  on  Cona,  and  a  thoufand  ghofls  fhriek 
"  at  once  on  the  hollow  wind."  Never  was  an  image  of 
more  awful  fublimity  employed  to  heighten  the  terror  of 
battle. 

Both  poets  compare  the  appearance  of  an  army  ap- 
proaching, to  the  gathering  of  dark  clouds.  "  As  when 
"  a  ihepherd,"  fays  Homer,  "  beholds  from  the  rock  a 
"  cloud  borne  along  the  fea  by  the  weftern  wind ;  black 
"  as  pitch  it  appears  from  afar,  failing  over  the  ocean, 
*'  and  carrying  the  dreadful  ftorm.  He  flirinks  at  the 
"  fight,  and  drives  his  flock  into  the  cave  :  Such,  under 
*'  the  Ajaces,  moved  on,  the  dark,  the  thickened  phalanx 

*'  to  the  war*." "  They  came,"  fays  Offian,  "  over 

"  the  defart  like  ftormy  clouds,  when  the  winds  roll  them 
f  over  the  heath  ;  their  edges  are  tinged  with  lightning  ; 

"  and 

*  Iliad,  iv.  27^. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.  485 

''•  and  the  echoing  groves  forefee  the  florm."  The  edges 
of  the  cloud  tinged  with  lightning,  is  a  fublime  idea;  but 
the  fliepherd  and  his  flock,  render  Hon-icr's  fimile  more 
picturefque.  This  is  frequently  the  difference  betv/een 
the  two  poets.  Offian  gives  no  more  than  the  main 
image,  ftrong  and  full.  Homer  adds  circumfiances  and 
appendages,  which  amufe  the  fancy  by  enlivening  the 
fcenery. 

Homer  compares  the  regular  appearance  of  an  arrtiy, 
to  "  clouds  that  are  fettled  on  the  mountain-top,  in  the 
"  day  of  calmnefs,  when  the  firength  of  the  north  wind 
"  fleeps  |."  Offian,  with  full  as  much  propriety,  com- 
pares the  appearance  of  a  difordered  army,  to  "  themoun- 
"  tain-cloud,  when  the  blafl  hath  entered  its  womb  ; 
"  and  fcatters  the  curling  gloom  on  every  fide."  Offian's 
clouds  alTume  a  great  many  forms  ;  and,  as  we  might  ex- 
pedb  from  his  climate,  are  a  fertile  fource  of  imagery  to 
him.  "  The  warriors  followed  their  chiefs,  like  the  ga- 
"  thering  of  the  rainy  clouds,  behind  the  red  meteors  of 
"  heaven.'*  An  army  retreating  without  coming  to  ac- 
tion, is  likened  to  "  clouds,  that  having  long  threatened 
"  rain,  retire  fiowly  behind  the  hills."  The  piclure  of 
Oithona,  after  fhe  had  determined  to  die,  is  lively  and 
delicate.  "  Her  foul  was  refolved,  and  the  tear  was  dried 
"  from  her  wildly-looking  eye.  A  troubled  joy  rofc  on 
"  her  mind,  like  the  red  path  of  the  lightning  on  a  ftor- 
"  my  cloud."  The  image  alfo  of  the  gloomy  Cairbar, 
meditating,  in  filence,  the  aflairmation  of  Ofcar,  until  the 
moment  camie  when  his  defigns  were  ripe  for  execution,  is 
extremely  noble,  and  complete  in  all  its  parts.  "  Cairbar 
"  heard  their  words  in  filence,  like  the  cloud  of  a  fhower  ; 
"  it  fhands  dark  on  Cromla,  till  the  lightning  burfts  its 
"  fide.  The  valley  gleams  with  red  light ;  the  fpirits  of 
"  the  ftorm  rejoice.  So  ftood  the  filent  king  of  Temora 
*'  — at  length  his  words  are  heard." 

Homer's  comparifon  of  Achilles  to  the  Dog-Star,  is 
very  fublime.  "  Priam  beheld  him  rufliing  along  the 
"  plain,  fhining  in  his  armour,  like  the  flar  of  autumn ; 
"  brieht  are  its  beams,  diitinguiflied  amidil  the  multitude 

"  of 

i-  Iliad,  V.  522. 


486    A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  o 


N 


"  of  fiars  in  the  dark  hour  of  night.  It  rifes  in  its  fplen- 
"  dor  ;  but  its  fplendor  is  fatal ;  betokening  to  miferable 
"  men,  the  deftroying  heat  *."  The  firft  appearance  of 
Fingal,  is,  in  Hke  manner,  compared,  by  Ofiian,  to  a  ftar 
or  meteor.  "  Fingal,  tall  in  his  fliip,  flretched  his  bright 
"  lance  before  him.  Terrible  was  the  gleam  of  his  fteel : 
"  it  was  like  the  green  meteor  of  death,  fetting  in  the 
"  heath  of  Malmor,  when  the  traveller  is  alone,  and  the 
"  broad  moon  is  darkened  in  heaven.'*  The  hero's  ap- 
pearance in  Komer,  is  more  magnificent ;  in  Oflian, 
more  terrible. 

A  TREE  cut  down,  or  overthrown  by  a  ftorm,  is  a  fimi- 
litude  frequent  among  poets  for  defcribing  the  fall  of  a 
warrior  in  battle.  Homer  employs  it  often.  But  the  mofl; 
beautiful,  by  far,  of  his  comparifons,  founded  on  this  ob- 
ject, indeed  one  of  the  mod  beautiful  in  the  whole  Iliad, 
is  that  on  the  death  of  Euphorbus.  "  As  the  young  and 
"  verdant  olive,  which  a  man  hath  reared  with  care  in  a 
"  lonely  field,  where  the  fprings  of  water  bubble  around 
"  it ;  it  is  fair  and  fiouriihing  ;  it  is  fanned  by  the  breath 
"  of  all  the  winds,  and  loaded  with  white,  blolfoms  ; 
"  when  the  fudden  blaft  of  a  whirlwind  defcending,  roots 
"  it  out  from  its  bed,  and  ftretches  it  on  the  dull  f ."  To 
this,  elegant  as  it  is,  we  may  oppofe  the  following  fmiile 
of  Offian's.  relating  to  the  death  of  the  three  fons  of  Uf- 
noth.  "  They  fell,  like  three  young  oaks  which  flood 
"  alone  on  the  hill.  The  traveller  faw  the  lovely  trees, 
"  and  wondered  how  they  grew  fo  lonely.  The  blaft  of 
"  the  defart  came  by  night,  and  laid  their  green  heads 
"  low.  Next  day  he  returned  ;  but  they  were  withered, 
"  and  the  heath  was  bare."  Malvina's  allufion  to  the 
fame  objecl,  in  her  lamentation  over  Ofcar,  is  fo  exquifite- 
ly  tender,  that  I  cannot  forbear  giving  it  a  place  alfo.  "  I 
'"  was  a  lovely  tree  in  thy  prefence,  Ofcar !  with  all  my 
"  branches  round  me.  But  thy  death  came  like  a  blaft 
"  from  the  defart,  and  laid  my  green  head  low.  The 
'•  fpring  returned  with  its  fliowers  ;  but  no  leaf  of  mine 
"  arofe."  Several  of  Oifian's  fimiles  taken  from  trees, 
ure  remarkably  beautiful,  and  diverfified  with  well  choferi 

circum- 

*  Iliad,  xxii.  26.  +  Iliad,  xvii.  53. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         487 

circumftances ;  fuch  as  that  upon  the  deith  of  Ryno  and 
Oria  ;  "  They  have  fallen  like  the  oak  of  the  defart;  when 
"  it  lies  acrofs  a  ftream,  and  withers  in  the  wind  of  the 
"  mountains  :"  Or  that  which  Offian  applies  to  himfelf ; 
"  I,  like  an  ancient  oak  in  Morven,  moulder  alone  in  my 
"  place ;  the  bhift  hath  lopped  my  branches  away  j  and  I 
"  tremble  at  the  wings  of  the  north." 

As  Hom.er  exalts  his  heroes,  by  comparing  them  to 
gods,  Offian  makes  the  fame  ufe  of  comparifons,  taken 
from  fpirits  and  ghofts.  Swaran  "  roared  in  battle,  like 
"  the  flirill  fpirit  of  a  ftorm  that  fits  dim  on  the  clouds  of 
"  Gormal,  and  enjoys  the  death  of  the  mariner."  His 
people  gathered  around  Erragon,  "  like  florms  around 
"  the  ghoft  of  night,  when  he  calls  them  from  the  top  of 
"  Morven,  and  prepares  to  pour  them  on  the  land  of  the 
"  ftranger." — ''  They  fell  before  my  fon,  like  groves  in 
*'  the  defart,  when  an  angry  ghofh  ruflies  through  night, 
"  and  takes  their  green  heads  in  his  hand."  In  fuch  ima- 
ges, OiTian  appears  in  his  ftrength  ;  for  very  feldom  have 
fupernatural  beings  been  painted  with  fo  much  fublimity, 
and  fuch  force  of  imagination,  as  by  this  poet.  Even  Ho- 
mer, great  as  he  is,  muft  yield  to  him  in  funiles  formed  upon 
thefe.  Take,  for  inflance,  the  following,  which  is  the 
moll  remarkable  of  this  kind  in  the  Iliad.  "  Merriones 
"  followed  Idomeneus  to  battle,  like  Mars  the  deflroyer 
^'  of  men,  when  he  ruflies  to  war.  Terror,  his  beloved 
*'  fon,  flrong  and  fierce,  attends  hmi ;  who  fills  with  dif- 
"  may,  the  moft  valiant  hero.  They  come  from  Thrace, 
"  armed  againll  the  Ephyrians  and  Phlegians  ;  nor  do  they 
"  regard  the  prayers  of  either  ;  but  difpoie  of  fuccefs  at 
"  their  wall*."  The  idea  here,  is  undoubtedly  noble : 
but  obferve  what  a  figure  OlTian  fets  before  the  aitonillied 
imagination,  and  with  what  fublimely-terrible  circumftan- 
ces he  has  heightened  it.  "  He  rufhed  in  the  found  of  his 
"  arms,  like  the  dreadful  fpirit  of  Loda,  when  he  comes 
"  in  the  roar  of  a  thoufand  florm.s,  and  fcatters  battles 
"  from  his  eyes.  He  fits  on  a  cloud  over  Lochlin'o  feas. 
"  His  mighty  hand  is  on  his  fword.    The  winds  lift  his 

^'  flaming 

*  Ilizd.  xiil.   208. 


488     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  flaming  locks.  So  terrible  was  Cuthullin  in  the  day  of 
"  his  fame." 

Homer's  comparifons  relate  chiefly  to  martial  fubje£ls, 
to  the  appearances  and  motions  of  armies,  the  engagement 
and  death  of  heroes,  and  the  various  incidents  of  war.  In 
Oflian,  we  find  a  greater  variety  of  other  fubjecls  illuftrat- 
ed  by  fimiles  ;  particularly,  the  fongs  of  bards,  the  beauty 
of  women,  the  different  circumfl:ances  of  old  age,  forrow, 
and  private  diflrefs  ;  which  give  occafion  to  much  beauti- 
ful imagery.  What,  for  inltance,  can  be  more  delicate 
and  moving,  than  the  following  fmiile  of  Oithona's,  in 
her  lamentation  over  the  diflionour  flie  had  fuffered  ? 
"  Chief  of  Strumon,"  replied  the  fighing  maid,  "  why 
"  didft  thou  come  over  the  dark-blue  wave  to  Nuath's 
"  mournful  daughter  ?  Why  did  not  I  pafs  away  in  fecret, 
"  like  the  flower  of  the  rock,  that  lifts  its  fair  head  un- 
*^  feen,  and  (trews  its  withered  leaves  on  the  blall  ?"  The 
mufic  of  bards,  a  favourite  objefl:  with  Offian,  is  illuftrated 
by  a  variety  of  the  moll  beautiful  appearances  that  are  to 
be  found  in  nature.  It  is  compared  to  the  calm  fliower  of 
fpring  ;  to  the  dev/s  of  the  morning  on  the  hill  of  roes  ; 
to  the  face  of  the  blue  and  Hill  lake.  Two  fimiles  on  this 
fubjecl,  I  fliall  quote,  becaufe  they  would  do  honour  to 
any  of  the  mod  celebrated  dailies.  The  one  is,  "  Sit 
"  thou  on  the  heath,  O  bard  !  and  let  us  hear  thy  voice ; 
"  it  is  pleafant  as  tke  gale  of  the  fpring  that  fighs  on  the 
"  hunter's  ear,  when  he  wakens  from  dreams  of  joy,  and 
"  has  heard  the  mufic  of  the  fpirits  of  the  hill."  The 
other  contains  a  fhort,  but  exquifitely  tender  image,  ac- 
companied v/ith  the  fineft  poetical  painting.  "  The  mu- 
"  fic  of  Carrii  was  like  the  memory  of  joys  that  are  paft, 
"  pleafant  and  mournful  to  the  foul.  The  ghofl:s  of  de- 
"  parted  bards  heard  it  from  Slimora's  fide.  Soft  founds 
"  fpread  along  the  v/ood  ;  and  the  filent  valleys  of  night 
"  rejoice."  What  a  figure  v/ould  fuch  imagery  and 
fuch  fcenery  have  made,  had  they  been  prefentcd  to  us, 
adorned  with  the  fweetnefs  and  harmony  of  the  Virgilian 
numbers ! 

I  HAVE  chofen  all  along  to  compare  Ollian  with  Ho- 
mer, rather  than  Virgil,  for  an  obious  reafon.      There  is 

a  much 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.        489 

a  much  nearer  correfpondence  between  the  times  and 
manners  of  the  two  former  poets.  Both  wrote  in  an  early- 
period  of  fociety ;  both  are  originals  ;  both  are  diftin- 
guiflied  by  fmiplicity,  fubhmity,  and  fire.  The  correcl 
elegance  of  Virgil,  his  artful  imitation  of  Homer,  the 
Roman  flatelineis  which  he  every  where  maintains,  admit 
no  parallel  with  the  abrupt  boldnefs,  and  enthufiatick 
warmth  of  the  Celtic  bard.  In  one  article,  indeed,  there 
is  a  refemblance.  Virgil  is  more  tender  than  Homer  ; 
and  thereby  agrees  more  with  Offian  ;  with  this  difference, 
that  the  feelings  of  the  one  are  more  gentle  and  poliihed, 
thofe  of  the  other  more  flrong ;  the  tendernefs  of  Virgil 
foftens,  that  of  Offian  diifolves  and  overcomes  the  heart. 
A  RESEMBLANCE  may  be  fometimes  obferved  between 
Offian *s  comparifons,  and  thofe  employed  by  the  facred 
writers.  They  abound  much  in  this  figure,  and  they  ufe 
it  with  the  utmofl  propriety  *.  The  imagery  of  Scripture 
exhibits  a  foil  and  climate  altogether  different  from  thofe 
of  Offian  ;  a  warmer  country,  a  more  fmiling  face  of  na- 
ture, the  arts  of  agriculture  and  of  rural  life  much  farther 
advanced.  The  wine-prefs,  and  the  threfliing-floor,  arc 
often  prefented  to  us,  the  Cedar  and  the  Palm-tree,  the 
fragrance  of  perfumes,  the  voice  of  the  Turtle,  and  the 
beds  of  Lilies.  The  fimiles  are,  like  Offian's,  generally 
fhort,  touching  on  one  point  of  refemblance,  rather  than 
fpread  out  into  little  epifodes.  In  the  following  example 
may  be  perceived  what  inexpreffible  grandeur  poetry  re- 
ceives from  the  intervention  of  the  Deity.  "  The  nati- 
ons fiiall  ruffi  like  the  rufliings  of  many  waters  ;  but 
God  ffiall  rebuke  them,  and  they  ffiall  lly  far  off,  and 
ffiall  be  chafed  as  the  chaff  of  the  mountains  before  the 
wind,  and  like  the  down  of  the  thiftle  before  the  whirl- 
wind f  .'* 

Besides  formal  comparifons,  the  poetry  of  Offian  is  em- 
belliffied  with  many  beautiful  metaphors  :  Such  as  that 
remarkably  fine  one  applied  to  Deugela  ;  "  She  was  co- 
"  vered  with  the  light  of  beauty ;  but  her  heart  was  the 
**  houfe  of  pride."  This  mode  of  expreffion,  which  fup- 
Q  q  q  preff«s 

*  See  Dr.Lowihde  Sacra  Potfi  Hcbr»orHm, 
■  f  Ifaiah  xvli.  13. 


490    A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

prefles  the  mark  of  comparifon,  and  fubflitutes  a  figured 
defcription  in  room  of  the  objetSt  defcribed,  is  a  great  en- 
livener  of  flyle.  It  denotes  that  glow  and  rapidity  of 
fancy,  which,  without  paufmg  to  form  a  regular  fimile, 
paints  the  object  at  one  flroke.  "  Thou  art  to  me  the 
"  beam  of  the  eaft,  rifmg  in  a  land  unknown."  "  In 
"  peace,  thou  art  the  gale  of  fpring  ;  in  war,  the  moun- 
"  tain-dorm.'*  "  Pleafant  be  thy  reft,  O  lovely  beam  ! 
"  foon  hail  thou  fet  on  our  hills  I  The  fteps  of  thy  de- 
"  parture  v/ere  ftately,  like  the  moon  on  the  blue-trem- 
"  bling  wave.  But  thou  halt  left  us  in  darknefs,  firft  of 
"  the  maids  of  Lutha  ! — Soon  haft  thou  fet,  Malvina ! 
''  but  thou  rifeft,  like  the  beam  of  the  eaft,  among  the 
"  fpirits  of  thy  friends,  where  they  fit  in  their  ftormy 
"  halls,  the  chambers  of  the  thunder."  This  is  correct, 
and  finely  fupported.  But  in  the  following  inftance,  the 
metaphor,  though  very  beautiful  at  the  beginning,  be- 
comes imperfect  before  it  clofes,  by  being  improperly 
mixed  w4th  the  literal  fenfe.  "  Trathal  went  forth  with 
"  the  ftream  of  his  people  ;  but  they  met  a  rock  :  Fingal 
"  ftood  unmoved  ;  broken,  they  rolled  back  from  his 
"  fide.  Nor  did  they  roll  in  fafety  ;  the  fpear  of  the 
"  king  purfued  their  flight." 

The  hyperbole  is  a  figure  which  we  might  expert  to 
find  often  employed  by  Oflian  ;  as  the  undifciplined  irna- 
gination  of  early  ages  generally  prompts  exaggeration, 
and  carries  its  objects  to  excefs ;  whereas  longer  experi- 
ence, and  farther  progrefs  in  the  arts  of  life,  chaften  men's 
ideas  and  expreftions.  Yet  Oftian's  hyperboles  appear 
not  to  me,  either  fo  frequent  or  fo  harlli  as  might  at  firft 
have  been  looked  for  ;  an  advantage  owing,  no  doubt,  to 
the  more  cultivated  ftate,  in  which,  as  was  before  fhown, 
poetry  fubfifted  among  the  ancient  Celtse,  than  among 
moft  other  barbarous  nations.  One  of  the  moft  exag- 
gerated defcriptions  in  the  whole  work,  is  what  meets 
us  in  the  beginning  of  Fingal,  where  the  fcout  makes 
his  report  to  Guthullin  of  the  landing  of  the  foe.  But 
this  is  fo  far  from  deferving  cenfure,  that  it  merits 
praife,  as  being,  on  that  occafion,  natural  and  proper. 
The  fcout  arrives,  trembling,  and  full  of  fears  -,  and  it  is 

well 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         491 

well  known,  that  no  pafTion  difpofes  men  to  hyperbolize 
more  than  terror.  It  both  annihilates  themfelv'es  in  their 
own  apprehenfion,  and  magnifies  every  objeft  which  they 
view  through  the  medium  of  a  troubled  imagination. 
Hence  all  thole  indiflind  images  of  formidable  greatnefs, 
the  natural  marks  of  a  difturbed  and  confufed  mind,  which 
■occur  in  Moran's  defcription  of  Swaran's  appearance,  and 
in  his  relation  of  the  conference  which  they  held  toge- 
ther ;  not  unlike  the  report,  which  the  affrighted  Jewifli 
fpies  made  to  their  leader,  of  the  land  of  Canaan.  "  The 
*'  land  through  which  we  have  gone  to  fearch  it,  is  a  land 
"  that  eateth  up  the  inhabitants  thereof;  and  all  the  pco- 
"  pie  that  we  faw  in  it,  are  men  of  a  great  llature  :  and 
*'  there  faw  we  giants,  the  fons  of  Anak,  which  come  of 
*'  the  giants  ;  and  we  were  in  our  own  fight  as  grafs- 
"  hoppers,  and  fo  were  we  in  their  fight  *." 

With  regard  to  perfonificatians,  i  formerly  obferved 
that  Offian  was  fparing,  and  I  accounted  for  his  being  fo. 
Allegorical  perfonages  he  has  none ;  and  their  abfence  is 
not  to  be  regretted.  For  the  intermixture  of  thefe  fha- 
dowy  beings,  which  have  not  the  fupport  even  of  mytho- 
logical or  legendary  belief,  with  human  a6lort-,  feldoni 
produces  a  good  effeOL  The  fidion  becomes  too  vifible 
and  phantaftick  ;  and  Gverthrows  that  imprefiion  of  rea- 
lity, which  the  prabable  recital  of  human  aftions  is  cal- 
culated to  make  upon  the  mind.  In  the  ferious  and  pa- 
thetick  fcenes  of  Offian  efpecially,  allegorical  charafters 
would  have  been  as  much  out  of  place,  as  in  Tragedy  ; 
ferving  only  unfeafonably  to  amufe  the  fancy,  whilll  they 
flopped  the  current,  and  weakened  the  force,  of  paflion. 

With  apoftrophes,  or  addreifes  to  perfons  abfent  ot 
dead,  which  have  been,  in  all  ages,  the  language  of  paf- 
fion,  our  poet  abounds  ;  and  they  are  among  his  higheft 
beauties.  Witnefs  the  apoflrophe,  in  the  firlt  book  of 
Fingal,  to  the  maid  of  Iniftore,  whofe  lover  had  fallen  in 
battle  ;  and  that  inimitably  fine  one  of  Cuthullin  to  13ra- 
gela,  at  the  conclufion  of  the  fame  book.  He  commands 
the  harp  to  be  flruck  in  her  praife  ;  and  the  mention  of 
Bragela's  name,  immediately  fuggefling  to  him  a  crowd 

of 

*  Numbers  xiii.  2,-,  2i^- 


492     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

of  tender  ideas  ;  "  Doft  thou  raife  thy  fair  face  from  the 
"  rocks,"  he  exclaims,  ."  to  find  the  fails  of  Cuthullin  ? 
"  The  fea  is  rolling  far  diftant,  and  its  white  foam  fhall 
"  deceive  thee  for  my  fails."  And  now  his  imagination 
being  wrought  up  to  conceive  her  as,  at  that  moment, 
really  in  this  fituation,  he  becomes  afraid  of  the  harm  fhe 
may  receive  from  the  inclemency  of  the  night ;  and  with 
mi  enthufiafm,  happy  and  affefting,  though  beyond  the 
cautious  (train  of  modern  poetry,  "  Retire,"  he  proceeds, 
retire,  for  it  is  night,  my  love,  and  the  dark  winds 
figh  in  thy  hair.  Retire  to  the  hall  of  my  feafts,  and 
think  of  the  times  that  are  pad  ;  for  I  will  not  return 
till  the  ftorm  of  war  has  ceafed.  O  Connal,  fpeak  of 
wars  and  arms,  and  fend  her  from  my  mind  ;  for  love- 
ly, with  her  raven  hair,  is  the  white-bofomed  daughter 
of  Sorglan."  This  breathes  all  the  native  fpirit  of 
paffion  and  tendernefs. 

The  addrelles  to  the  fun,  to  the  moon,  and  to  the  even- 
ing ftar,  muft  draw  the  attention  of  every  reader  of  tafte, 
as  among  the  moft  fplendid  ornaments  of  this  colledion. 
The  beauties  of  each  are  too  great,  and  too  obvious,  to 
need  any  particular  comment.     In  one  palfage  only  of 
ihe  addrefs  to  the  moon,  there  appears  fome  obfcurity. 
'  Whither  deft  thou  retire  from  thy  courfe,  when  the 
'  darknefs  of  thy  countenance  grows  ?  Haft  thou  thy  hall 
'  like   Oflian  ?   Dvvelleft  thou  in  the  ftiadow  of  grief  ? 
'  Have  thy  fifters  fallen  from  Heaven  ?  Are  they  who  re- 
'  joiced  Vvdth  thee  at  night,  no  more  ?   Yes,  they  have 
'  fallen,  fair  light !  and  thou  doft  often  retire  to  mourn.'* 
We  may  be  at  a  lofs  to  comprehend,  at  firft  view,  the 
ground  of  thefe  fpeculations  of  Oflian,   concerning  the 
moon  ;   but  when  all  the  circumftances  are  attended  to, 
they  will  appear  to  flow  naturally  from  the  prefent  fitua- 
tion of  his  mind.     A  mind  under  the  dominion  of  any 
ftrong  pafiion,  tindures,  with  its  own  difpofition,  every 
objetl  which  it  beholds.     The  old  bard,  with  his  heart 
bleeding  for  the  lofs  of  all  his  friends,  is  meditating  on 
the  diflerent  phafes  of  the  moon.     Her  waning  and  dark- 
nefs, prefents  to  his  melancholy  imagination,  the  image 
of  forrow  ;  and  prefently  the  idea  arifes,  and  is  indulged, 

thatj 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN. 


493 


that,  like  himfelf,  llie  retires  to  mourn  over  the  lofs  of 
other  moons,  or  of  ftars,  whom  he  calls  her  fiflers,  and 
fancies  to  have  once  rejoiced  with  her  at  night,  now  fallen 
from  heaven.  Darknefs  luggeiled  the  idea  of  mourning, 
and  mourning  fuggefted  nothing  fo  naturally  to  Ofllan,  as 
the  death  of  beloved  friends.  An  inltance  precifely  fimi- 
laf  of  this  influence  of  paffion,  may  be  feen  in  a  paflage 
which  has  always  been  admired  of  Shakefpear's  King  Lear. 
The  old  man  on  the  point  of  diPaaclion,  through  the  in- 
humanity of  his  daughters,  fees  Edgar  difguiied  like  a  beg- 
gar and  a  madman. 

Lear.    DidH  thou  give  all  to  thy  daughters  ? 
And  art  thou  come  to  this  ? 

Couldefl  thou  leave  nothing  ?   Didfl  thou  give  them 
all? 
Kent.   He  hath  no  daughters,  Sir. 
Lear.    Death,  traitor  !   nothing  could  have  fubdued 
nature. 
To  fuch  a  lownefs,  but  his  unkind  daughters. 

King  Lear.,  Act  3.  Scene  5. 

The  apoftrophe  to  the  winds,  in  the  opening  of  Dar- 
thula,  is  in  the  highelt  fpirit  of  poetry.  "  But  the  winds 
"  deceive  thee,  O  Darthula  ;  and  deny  the  woody  Etha 
"  to  thy  fails.  Thefe  are  not  thy  mountains,  Nathos,  nor 
"  is  that  the  roar  of  thy  climbing  waves.  The  halls  of 
"  Cairbar  are  near,  and  the  towers  of  the  foe  lift  their 
*'  head. — Where  have  ye  been,  ye  fouthern  winds  ;  when 
"  the  fojis  of  my  love  were  deceived?  But  ye  have  been 
"  fporting  on  plains,  and  purfuing  the  thillle's  beard.  O 
"  that  ye  had  been  ruitling  in  the  fails  of  Nathos,  till  the 
"•  hills  of  Etha  role  !  till  they  role  in  their  clouds,  and  faw 
"  their  coming  chief."  This  paflTage  is  remarkable  for  the 
refemblance  it  bears  to  an  expoilulation  with  the  wood 
nymphs,  on  their  abfence  at  a  critical  time ;  which,  as  a 
favourite  poetical  idea,  Virgil  has  copied  from  Theocri- 
tus, and  Milton  has  very  happily  imitated  from  both. 

Where  were  yc,  nymphs  !   when  the  remorfclcfs  deep 
Clos'd  o'er  th<;  head  of  your  lov'd  Lycidas? 

For 


494     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  oi« 

For  neither  were  ye  playing  on  the  fteep 
Where  your  old  bards,  the  famous  Druids,  lie ; 
Nor  on  the  fhaggy  top  of  Mona  high, 
Nor  yet  where  Deva  fpreads  her  wizard  ftream  *. 

Having  now  treated  fully  of  Offian's  talents,  with  rc- 
fpect  to  defcription  and  imagery,  it  only  remains  to  make 
fome  obfervations  on  his  fentiments.  No  fentiments  can 
be  beautiful  without  being  proper ;  that  is,  fuited  to  the 
chara£ler  and  fituation  of  thofe  who  utter  them.  In  this 
refped:,  Ollian  is  as  correft  as  moft  writers.  His  charac- 
ters, as  above  obferved,  are  in  general  well  fupported  ; 
which  could  not  have  been  the  cafe,  had  the  fentiments 
been  unnatural  or  out  of  place.  A  variety  of  perfonages 
of  different  ages,  fexes,  and  conditions,  are  introduced 
into  his  poems  ;  and  they  fpeak  and  adt  with  a  propriety 
of  fentiment  and  behaviour,  which  it  is  furprifing  to  find 
in  fo  rude  an  age.  Let  the  poem  of  Darthula,  through- 
out, be  taken  as  an  example. 

But  it  is  not  enough  that  fentiments  be  natural  and  pro- 
per. In  order  to  acquire  any  high  degree  of  poetical  me- 
rit, they  muff  alfo  be  fublime  and  pathetic. 

The  fublime  is  not  confined  to  fentiment  alone.  It  be- 
longs to  defcription  alfo  ;  and  whether  in  defcription  or  in 
fentiment,  imports  fuch  ideas  prefented  to  the  mind,  as 
raife  it  to  an  uncommon  degree  of  elevation,  and  fill  it 
with  admiration  and  aftonifhment.  This  is  the  highelt  ef- 
fect either  of  eloquence  or  poetry :  And  to  produce  this 
effeft,  requires  a  genius  glowing  with  the  ftrongeft  and 
warmefl  conception  of  fome  object  awful,  great  or  magni- 
ficent. That  this  character  of  genius  belongs  to  Ollian, 
may,  I  think,  fufficiently  appear  from  many  of  the  paffa- 
ges  I  have  already  had  occafion  to  quote.  To  produce 
more  inftances,  were  fuperfluous.  If  the  engagement  of 
Fingal  with  the  fpirit  of  Loda,  in  Carric-thura  ;  if  the  en- 
counters of  the  armies,  in  Fingal  j  if  the  addrefs  to  the 
fun,  in  Carthon  j  if  the  fimiles  founded  upon  ghofts  and 

fpirit* 

*  Milton's  Lycidas.  See  Theocrit.  Idyll.  I. 

n«  wax!  k^  »<ri'  oKci  Aot,(pvti  Irecx-ire  ;    ttu  Tretxei,   Nvfc<pti,i,   &C. 
And  Virg.  Eclog.  lo. 
Que  neniora,  aut  qui  v5s  faltus  habuere,  puellse,  &c. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         495 

fpirits  of  the  night,  all  formerly  mentioned,  be  not  ad- 
mitted as  examples,  and  illuftrious  ones  too,  of  the  true 
poetical  fublime,  I  confefs  myfelf  entirely  ignorant  of  this 
quality  in  writing. 

All  the  circumftances,  indeed,  of  Offian's  compofition, 
are  favourable  to  the  fublime,  more  perhaps  than  to  any 
other  fpecies  of  beauty.  Accuracy  and  correclnefs ;  art- 
fully-conneded  narration  ;  exatl  method  and  proportion 
of  parts,  we  may  look  for  in  polilhed  times.  The  gay  and 
the  beautiful,  will  appear  to  more  advantage  in  the  midfl 
of  fmiling  fcenery  and  pleafurable  themes.  But  amidft: 
the  rude  fcenes  of  nature,  amidfl  rocks  and  torrents  and 
whirlwinds  and  battles,  dwells  the  fublime.  It  is  the 
thunder  and  the  lightning  of  genius.  It  is  the  offspring 
of  nature,  not  of  art.  It  is  negligent  of  all  the  leffer 
graces,  and  perfeftly  confident  with  a  certain  noble  dif- 
order.  It  aflociates  naturally  with  that  grave  and  folemn 
fpirit,  which  diftinguiflies  our  author.  For  the  fubhme, 
is  an  awful  and  ferious  emotion ;  and  is  heightened  by  all 
the  images  of  Trouble,  and  Terror,  and  Darknefs. 

Ipfe  pater,  media  nimborum  in  node,  corufca 
Fulmina  molitur  dextra  ;  quo  maxima  motu 
Terra  tremit ;  fugere  ferae  ;  &  mortalia  corda 
Per  gentes,  humilis  flravit  pavor  ;  ille,  flagranti 
Aut  Atho,  aut  Rhodopen,  aut  alta  Ceraunia  telo 
Dejicit. ViRG.  Georg.  I. 

Simplicity  and  concifenefs,  are  never-failing  charac- 
teriftics  of  the  ftile  of  a  fubhme  writer.  He  refts  on  the 
majefty  of  his  fentiments,  not  on  the  pomp  of  his  expref- 
fions.  The  main  fecret  of  being  fublime,  is  to  fay  great 
things  in  few,  and  in  plain  words :  For  every  fuperfluous 
decoration  degrades  a  fublime  idea.  The  mind  rifes  and 
fwells,  when  a  lofty  defcription  or  fentiment  is  prefented 
to  it,  in  its  native  form.  But  no  fooner  does  the  poet 
attempt  to  fpread  out  this  fentiment  or  defcription,  and  to 
deck  it  round  and  round  with  glittering  ornaments,  than 
the  mind  begins  to  fall  from  its  high  elevation ;  the  tran- 
fport  is  over;  the  beautiful  may  remain,  but  the  fublime 
is  gone.    Hence  the  concife  and  fimple  ftyle  of  Offian, 

gives 


4g6     A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

gives  great  advantage  to  his  fublime  conceptions  ;  and  at 
fifts  them  in  feizing  the  imagination  with  full  power  *. 

Sublimity,  as  belonging  to  fentiment,  coincides,  in  a 
great  meafure,  with  magnanimity,  heroifm,  and  generofity 
of  fentiment.  Whatever  difcovers  human  nature  in  its 
greateil  elevation  ;  whatever  befpeaks  a  high  effort  of 
foul  ;  or  fliows  a  mind  fuperior  to  pleafures,  to  dangers, 
and  to  death,  forms  what  may  be  called  the  moral  or  fen- 
timental  fublime.  For  this,  Offian  is  eminently  diilin- 
guiflied.  No  poet  maintains  a  higher  tone  of  virtuous  or 
noble  fentiment,  throughout  all  his  works.  Particularly 
in  all  the  ,fentiments  of  Fingal,  there  is  a  grandeur  and 
loftinefs  proper  to  fwell  the  mind  with  the  higheft  ideas  of 
human  perfedion.  Wherever  he  appears,  we  behold  the 
hero.  The  objefts  which  he  purfues,  are  always  truly 
great  ;  to  bend  the  proud  ;  to  protect  the  injured  ;  to 
defend  his  friends  ;  to  overcome  his  enemies  by  genero- 
fity more  than  by  force.  A  portion  of  the  fame  fpirit  ac- 
tuates all  the  other  heroes.  Valour  reigns  ;  but  it  is  a 
generous  valour,  void  of  cruelty,  animated  by  -honour, 
not  by  hatred.  We  behold  no  debafmg  paffions  among 
Fingal's  warriors  ;  no  fpirit  of  avarice  or  of  infult  ;  but 
a  perpetual  contention  for  fame  ;  a  defire  of  being  dif- 
tinguifned  and  remembered  for  gallant  aclions  ;  a  love  of 
juftice;  and  a  zealous  attachment  to  their  friends  and  their 
country.  Such  is  the  llrain  of  fentiment  in  the  works  of 
Offian. 

But 

*  The  noted  faying  of  Julius  Catfar,  to  the  pilot  in  a  ftorm  ;  "  Quid  times  ? 
Caefareiii  vehis;"  is  magnanimous  and  fublime.  Lucan,  not  fatisfied  with  this  fim- 
ple  concifcnefs,  reiblved  to  amplify  and  improve  the  thought.  Obferve,  how  eve- 
ry time  he  twills  it  round,  it  departs  farther  from  the  fublime,  till,  at  lall,  it  ends 
in  tumid  declamation. 

Sperne  minas,  inquit,  Pelagi,  ventoque  furenti 
Trade  finum.     Italiam,  fi  coelo  auftore,  recufas, 
Me,  pete.     Sola  tibl  caufa  hasc  eft  jafta  timoris 
Vetlorem  non  effe  tuum ;  quem  numina  nunquam 
DcTtituunt;  de  quo  male  tunc  fortuna  meictur, 
Cum  poft  vota  venit ;  medias  perrumpe  procellas 
Tutela  fecure  meii.     Cceii  ille  fietique, 
Non  puppis  nodra:,  labor  eft.     Hanc  Casfare  preffam 
A  flaclu  defendit  onus. 

Quid  tantaftrage  paratur, 

Ignoras  P  Qua^rit  pelagi  ccelique  tumulta 
, '  Quid  prasftcL  fujtuna  mihi.- 

Harf^L  V.  578. 


THE  POEMS  o?  OSSIAN.  497 

But  the  fublimicy  of  moral  fentiinents,  if  they  want- 
ed the  foftening  of  the  tender,  woiil^  be  in  hazard  of 
giving  a  hard  and  ilifF  air  to  poetry.     It  is  not  enough 
to   admire.     Admiration  is  a  cold  feeling,    in  compa- 
rifon  of  that  deep  intereft,  which  the  heart  takes  in  ten- 
der and  pathetick  fcenes ;  where,   by  a  myilerious  at- 
tachment to  the  objefts  of  comipaffion,  we  are  pleafed 
and  delighted,  even  whilft  we  mourn.     With  fcenes  of 
this  kind,  OfTian  abounds  j   and  his  high  merit  in  thefe, 
is  inconteftible.     He  m^ay  be  blamed  for  drawing  tears 
too  often  from  our  eyes ;  but  that  he  has  the  power  of 
commanding  them,  I  believe  no  man,  who  has  the  leaft 
fenfibility,  will  queftion.    The  general  char:i6ter  of  his 
poetry,  is  the  heroic  mixed  with  the  elegiac  llrain ;  ad- 
miration tempered  with  pity.     Ever  fond  of  giving,   as 
he  expreffes  it,   "  the  joy  of  grief,"  it  is  vifible,  that  on 
all  moving  fubjects,  he  delights  to  exert  his  genius;   and 
accordingly,  never  were  there  finer  pathetick  fituations, 
than  what  his  works  prefent.    His  gr'eat  art  in  managing 
them  lies  in  giving  vent  to  the  fimple  and  natural  emo- 
tions of  the  heart.     We  meet  with   no  exaggerated  de- 
clamation ;   no  fubtile  refinements  on  forrowj  no  fubfti- 
tution   of  defcription   in   place  of  pafTion.     Oflian   felt 
llrongly  himfelf ;   and  the  heart,  when  uttering  its  native 
language,  never  fails,  by  powerful  fympathy,  to  affe6l  the 
heart.    A  great  variety  of  examples  might  be  produced. 
We  need  only  open  the  book  to  find  them  every  where. 
What,  for  inftance,  can  be  more  moving,  than  the  la- 
mentations of  Oithona,  after  her  misfortune?  Gaul,  tlie 
fon  of  Morni,   lier  lover,   ignorant  of  what  flie  h.ad   fuf- 
fered,   com.es  to  her  reicue.    Their  meeting  is  tender  in 
the  higheft  degree.     He  propofes  to  engage  her  foe,   in 
fingle  combat,  and  gives  her  in  charge  what  (lie  is  to  do, 
if  he  himfelf  Ihall  fall.     "  And   fhall  the   daughter  of 
"  Nuath  live  ?   fhe  replied,  with  a  burfting  figh.    Shall 
"  I  live  in  Tron^uhon,  and  the  fon  of  Morni  low  ?  My 
"  heart  is  not  of  that  rock;  nor  my  foul  carelefs  as  that 
"  fea,  which  lifts  its  blue  waves  to  every  wind,  and  rolls 
"   bene  ath  the  ftorm.     The  blall,  which  ihall  lay  thee  low, 
"  lliall  fpr'-ad  the  branches  of  Oithona  on  earth.    We 

R  r  r  "  iliali 


498    A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

"  fhall  wither  together,  Ton  of  car-borne  Morni !  The 
*'  narrow  hoiife  is  pleafant  to  me;  and  the  grey  (tone  of 
"  the  dead ;  for  never  more  will  I  leave  thy  rocks,  fea- 

"  fiirrounded  Tromathon  ! Chief  of  Strumon,  why 

"  cameft  thou  over  the  waves  to  Nuath's  mournful 
"  daughter  ?  Why  did  not  I  pafs  away  in  fecret,  like 
*'  the  flower  of  the  rock,  that  lifts  its  fair  head  unfeen, 
"  and  ftrews  its  withered  leaves  on  the  blaft  ?  Why  didft 
"  tliou  come,  O  Gaul !  to  hear  my  departing  figh  ? — 
'^  O  had  I  dwelt  at  Duvranna,  in  the  bright  beams  of 
"  m.y  fam.e  !  Then  had  my  years  come  on  with  joy  j 
"  and  the  virgins  would  blefs  my  fteps.  But  I  fall  in 
"  youth,  fon  of  Morni,  and  my  father  fhail  blufh  in  his 
"  hall." 

OiTHONA  mourns  like  a  woman;  in  Cuthullin's  ex- 
preffions  of  grief  after  his  defeat,  we  behold  the  fenti- 
ments  of  a  hero,  generous  but  defponding.  The  fituation 
is  remarkably  fine.  Cuthullin,  roufed  from  his  cave,  by 
the  noife  of  battle,  fees  Fingal  viftorious  in  the  field. 
He  is  defcribed  as  kindling  at  the  fight.  '^'  His  hand  is 
*'  on  the  fword  of  his  fathers;  his  red-rolling  eyes  on 
"  the  foe.  He  thrice  attempted  to  rufh  to  battle ;  and 
"  thrice  did  Connal  ftop  him. ;"  fuggefting,  that  Fingal 
was  routing  the  foe  ;  and  that  he  ought  not,  by  the 
fliow  of  fupcrfluous  aid,  to  deprive  the  king  of  any 
part  of  the  honour  of  a  viftory,  which  was  owing  to 
him  alone.  Cuthullin  yields  to  this  generous  fentiment; 
but  we  fee  it  fi:inging  him  to  the  heart  with  the  fenfe  of 
his  own  diigrace.  "  Then,  Carril,  go,"  replied  the 
chief,  "  and  greet  the  king  of  Morven.  When  Lochlin 
*'  falls  away  like  a  ftream  after  rain,  and  the  noife  of 
"  the  battle  is  over,  then  be  thy  voice  fweet  in  his  car, 
"  to  praife  the  king  of  fwords.  Give  him  the  fword  of 
*'  Caithbat ;  for  Cuthullin  is  worthy  no  more  to  lift  the 
*^  arms  of  his  fathers.  But,  O  ye  ghoiis  of  the  lonely 
"  Cromila  !  Ye  fouls  of  chiefs  that  are  no  more  !  Be  ye 
"  the  comipanions  of  Cuthullin,  and  talk  to  him  in  the 
"  cave  of  his  forrow.  For  never  more  fiiall  1  be  re- 
"  nowned  among  the  m.ighty  in  the  land.  I  am  like  a 
*^  beam  that  has  llione  ;  like  a  mill  that  has  fled  away ; 

"  when 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         499 

"  when  the  blaft  of  the  morning  came,  and  brightened 

''  the  fliaggy  fide  of  the  hill.    Connal !  talk  of  arms  no 

"  more  :   Departed  is  my  fame.    My  fighs  Oiall  be  on 

"  Cromla's  wind^  till  my   footfteps  ceafe  to  be  feen. 

'^  And  thou,  white-bofomed  Bragela  !   mourn  over  the 

"  fall  of  my  fame ;  for  vanquiflied,  I  will  never  return 

"  to  thee,  thou  fun-beam  of  Dunfcaich!" 


-^rtuat  in 


gens 


Uno  in  corde  pudor,  ludufque,  &  confcia  virtus. 

Besides  fuch  extended  pathctick  fcenes,  Oflian  fre- 
quently pierces  the  heart  by  a  fingle  unexpeCled  Itroke. 
When  Ofcar  fell  in  battle,  "  No  father  mourned  his  fon 
'^  flain  in  youths  no  brother,  his  brother  of  love;  they 
"  fell  without  tears,  for  the  chief  of  the  people  was 
"  low."  In  the  admirable  interview  of  JHeAor  with 
Andromache,  in  the  (ixth  Iliad,  the  circumftance  of  the 
child  in  his  nurfe's  arms,  has  often  been  remarked,  as 
adding  much  to  the  tcndernefs  of  the  fcene.  In  the  fol- 
lowing paffage,  relating  to  the  death  of  Cuthullin,  we 
find  a  circumftance  that  muft  ftrike  the  imagination  with 
flill  greater  force.  "  And  is  the  Ion  of  Semo  fallen  r" 
faid  Carril  with  a  figh.  "  Mournful  are  Tura's  walls, 
^'  and  forrow  dwells  at  Dunfcaich.  Thy  fpoufe  is  lefc 
"  alone  in  her  youth ;  the  fon  of  thy  love  is  alone.  He 
"  fhall  come  to  Bragela,  and  afk  her  why  fhe  v/eeps. 
"  He  fhall  lift  his  eyes  to  the  wall,  and  fee  his  father's 
'^  fword.  Whofe  fword  is  that?  he  will  lay;  and  the 
"  foul  of  his  mother  is  fad."  Soon  after  Fingal  had 
fhewn  all  the  grief  of  a  father's  heart  for  Ryno,  one  of 
his  Ions,  fallen  in  battle,  he  is  calling,  afier  his  accuf- 
tomed  manner,  his  fons  to  the  chace.  "  Call,"  fays  he, 
«  Fillan  and  Ryno — But  he  is  not  here — My  fon  refts 
"  on  the  bed  of  death." — This  unexpeded  Hart  of  an- 
guifh,  is  worthy  of  the  higheft  tragic  poet. 

If  fhe  come  in,   fhe'U  fure  fpeak  to  my  wife — 
My  wife  ! — my  wife — What  wife — I  have  no  wife — 
Oh  infupportable  !  Oh  heavy  hour  ! 

Othello,  Aft  5.  Scene  7. 

Thi 


500    A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION  on 

The  contrivance  of  the  incident  in  both  poets  is  fimi- 
lar;  but  the  circumftances  are  varied  with  judgment. 
Othello  dwells  upon  the  name  of  v/ife,  when  it  had  fal- 
len from  him,  with  the  confufion  and  horror  of  one  tor- 
tured with  guilt.  Fingal,  with  the  dignity  of  a  hero, 
correfts  himfelf,  and  fuppreffes  his  rinng  grief. 

The  contrail  which  OfTian  frequently  makes  between 
his  prefent  and  his  former  ftate,  difFufes  over  his  whole 
poetry,  a  folemn  pathetick  air,  which  cannot  fail  to  make 
impreffion  on  every  heart.  The  conclufion  of  the  fongs 
of  Selma,  is  particularly  calculated  for  this  purpofe. 
Nothing  can  be  more  poetical  and  tender,  or  can  leave 
upon  the  mind,  a  ftronger,  and  more  affecting  idea  of 
the  venerable  aged  bard.  "  Such  were  the  words  of  the 
"  bards  in  the  days  of  the  Ibngj  when  the  king  heard 
"■  the  mufic  of  harps,  and  the  tales  of  other  times.  The 
"  chiefs  gathered  from  all  their  hills,  and  heard  the  love- 
"  ly  found.  They  praifed  the  voice  of  Cona  *  ;  the  firfc 
"  among  a  thoufand  bards.  But  age  is  now  on  my 
"  tongue,  and  my  foul  has  failed.  I  hear,  fometimes,  the 
"  ghoils  of  bards,  and  learn  their  pleafant  fong.  But 
"  m.emory  fails  on  my  mind  -,  I  hear  the  call  ot  years. 
"  They  fay,  as  they  pafs  along.  Why  does  Offian  fing  ? 
"  Soon  fnall  he  lie  in  the  narrow  houfe,  and  no  bard 
"  fliall  raife  his  fame.  Roll  on,  ye  dark-brown  years  ! 
"  for  ye  bring  no  joy  in  your  courfe.  Let  the  tomb 
"  open  to  Offian,  for  his  ftrength  has  failed.  The  fons 
"  of' the  fong  are  gone  to  reft.  My  voice  remains,  like 
"  a  blaft,  that  roars  lonely  on  a  fea-furrounded  rock, 
*'  after  the  winds  are  laid.  The  dark  mofs  whiftles  there, 
"  and  the  diftant  mariner  fees  the  waving  trees." 

Upon  the  whole ;  if  to  feel  ftrongly,  and  to  defcribe 
naturally,  be  the  two  chief  ingredients'in  poetical  genius, 
Offian  muft,  after  fair  examination,  be  held  to  pofTefs 
that  genius  in  a  high  degree.  The  cjueftion  is  not,  whe- 
ther a  few  improprieties  m.ay  be  pointed  out  in  his  works  ; 
whether  this,  or  thatpaffiige,  might  not  haVe  been  work- 
ed up  with  more  art  and  llciil,  by  fome  writer  of  happier 
times  ?  A  thoufand  fuch  cold  and  frivolous  criticifms, 

arc 

*  Oflian  himfelf  i«  poaticully  called  The  Voice  of  Con«. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN.         501 

are  altogether  indecifive  as  to  his  genuine  merit.  Bur, 
has  he  the  fpirit,  the  fire,  the  infpiration  of  a  poet  ? 
Does  he  utter  the  voice  of  nature  ?  Does  he  elevate  by 
his  fentiments  ?  Does  he  intereft  by  his  defcriptions  ? 
Does  he  paint  to  the  heart  as  well  as  to  the  fancy?  Does 
he  make  his  readers  glow,  and  tremble,  and  weep  ? 
Thefe  are  the  great  charafteriftics  of  true  poetry.  Where 
thefe  are  found,  he  muft  be  a  minute  critic  indeed,  who 
can  dwell  upon  flight  dcfefts.  A  few  beauties  of  this  high 
kind,  tranfcend  whole  volumes  of  faultlefs  mediocrity. 
Uncouth  and  abrupt,  Oflian  may  fometimes  appear,  by 
reafon  of  his  concifenefs.  But  he  is  fublime,  he  is  pa- 
thetic, in  an  eminent  degree.  If  he  has  not  the  extenfive 
knowledge,  the  regular  dignity  of  narration,  the  fulnefs 
and  accuracy  of  defcription,  which  we  find  in  Homer 
and  Virgil,  yet,  in  ftrength  of  imagination,  in  grandeun 
of  fentiment,  in  native  majefty  of  palTion,  he  is  fully 
their  equal.  K  he  flows  not  always  like  a  clear  fl:ream, 
yet  he  breaks  forth  often  like  a  torrent  of  fire.  Of  art, 
too,  he  is  far  from  being  deftitute  ;  and  his  imagination 
is  remarkable  for  delicacy  as  v/ell  as  ftrength.  Seldom 
or  never  is  he  either  trifling  or  tedious  j  and  if  he  be 
thought  too  melancholy,  yet  he  is  always  moral.  Tho' 
his  merit  were  in  other  refpecls  much  leis  than  it  is,  this 
alone  ought  to  entitle  him  to  high  regard,  that  his  wri- 
tings are  rcmarkablv  favourable  to  virtue.  Thev  awake 
the  tenderefl:  fympathies,  and  infpire  the  mofl:  generous 
emotions.  No  reader  can  rife  from  him,  without  being 
v/armed  with  the  ientiments  of  humanity,  virtue  and  ho- 
nour. 

Though  unacquainted  with  the  original  language, 
there  is  no  one  but  muft  judge  the  tranflation  to  deferve 
the  highefl:  praife,  on  account  of  its  beauty  and  elegance. 
Of  its  faithfulnefs  and  accuracy,  I  have  been  aflTured  by 
perfons  (killed  in  the  Gaelic  tongue,  who,  from  their 
youth,  were  acquainted  with  many  of  thefe  poems  o{ 
Oflian.  To  transfuie  fuch  fpirited  and  fervid  ideas  from 
one  language  into  another;  to  tranflate  literally,  and 
yet  with  fuch  a  glow  of  poetry ;  to  keep  alive  fo  much 
pafflon,  and  fupport  fo  much  dignity  throughout,  is  one 

af 


502    A  CRITICAL  DISSERTATION,  &c. 

of  the  moil  difficult  works  of  genius,  and  proves  the 
tranfiator  to  have  been  animated  with  no  fmall  portion  of 
Oilian's  fpirit. 

The  meafured  profe  which  he  has  employed,  pofieflcs 
confiderable  advantages  above  any  fort  of  verification 
he  could  have  chofen.  Whilfl  it  pleafes  and  fills  the 
ear  with  a  variety  of  harmonious  cadences,  being,  at  the 
fame  time,  freer  from  conftraint,  in  the  choice  and  ar- 
rangement of  words,  it  allows  the  fpirit  of  the  original 
to  be  exhibited  with  m.ore  juftnefs,  force,  and  fimplicity. 
Elegant,  however,  and  mafterly  as  Mr.  Macpherfon's 
tranflation  is,  we  muft  never  forget,  whilft  we  read  it,  that 
we  are  putting  the  merit  of  the  original  to  a  fevere  teft. 
For  we  are  examining  a  poet  dripped  of  his  native  drefs  ; 
divefted  of  the  harmony  of  his  own  numbers.  We 
knov/  how  much  grace  and  energy  the  works  of  the  Greek 
and  Latin  poets  receive  from  the  charm  of  verfification 
in  their  original  languages.  If  then,  defbitute  of  this 
advantage,  exhibited  in  a  literal  verfion,  OfTian  ftill  has 
power  to  pleafe  as  a  poet ;  and  not  to  pleafe  only,  but 
often  to  command,  to  tranfport,  to  melt  the  heart ;  we 
may  very  fafcly  infer,  that  his  produttions  are  the  ofF- 
fpring  of  true  and  uncommon  genius  ;  and  we  may  very 
boldly  aflign  him  a  place  among  thofe,  whofe  v/orks  are 
to  lad  for  ages. 


FINIS. 


